The Unknown Factor
by abstract moth
Summary: The military assumes that this man's name is Lieutenant Logan Reed. They assume that he has simply been assigned to investigate a resistance group in the northeast. They did not consider the fact that he might be a spy. They do not know the threat he poses to two very important state alchemists. Parental!RoyEd subplot.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_

 _This story started as a "what if" scenario in my head and sort of just went from there._ _I do have the next couple of chapters planned out and will update this story as soon as I'm done writing them._

 _For those of you who don't know a agent handler is a person who manages or handles a covert operative. They normally pass on missions or act as a messenger to higher ups._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

* * *

Early morning in East City, it is a peaceful day. A man in a blue military uniform is walking up the steps of Eastern Command. According to the Amestrian military this man's name is Lieutenant Logan Reed. He transferred here from West City two years ago.

However this man, who lives in Lieutenant Reed's apartment, receives Lieutenant Reed's paychecks, and who wears Lieutenant Reed's uniform, is not the real Lieutenant Reed. The real Lieutenant Reed is decomposing at the bottom of a lake, if there is anything left of him to decompose at all.

This man, who the military assumes to be Lieutenant Reed, does have a real name. However it doesn't matter at this point.

What does matter is that Lieutenant Reed is slightly nervous. As any man would be in his situation. He is heading to a missions briefing, and a very important mission at that. It is the militaries procedure that officers will not be briefed on high-level missions until three days before they start. So Reed had no idea what he was walking into; and as usual his paranoia was going through the roof.

 _'They know. It's all because of the Parktown Incident two months ago. This is the end. They are going to kill you.'_

He took even breaths in attempt to silence his racing mind. Reasonably, he knew nothing really bad would happen. He would simply walk into Colonel Mustang's office and be briefed on his mission. Worst thing that could happen is him tripping over his shoes and making a fool of himself.

He had met Mustang twice since arriving to East City. The first time was when he had just arrived, and once again two months ago. The Colonel was the kind of man who took all the authority in the room and seized it for himself, who remained calm and collected with the mission always at mind. Reed had always found himself standing straighter whenever they had crossed paths.

He paused for a moment outside the office door and reassured himself once more than nothing bad was going to happen. It still didn't shake the feeling.

He was one of the last to arrive. Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery were seated quietly on the couches. Colonel Mustang himself was at his desk. He was going over a few papers.

Reed stood at attention.

"Colonel Mustang." He saluted. "Lieutenant Reed, reporting as ordered."

"At ease, Lieutenant," Colonel Mustang said. He had just barely glanced up. "Take a seat, this meeting isn't going to start for a while." Reed sat down next to Fuery.

"May I ask why?" He inquired.

"A certain member of my team hasn't arrived yet," Mustang said passively. He looked up. "I believe we've met before."

"Yes, sir. You debriefed me after the Parktown incident,"

"That's right. Excellent work you did on that case,"

"Thank you, sir." Reed had begun to say something else when the door was suddenly kicked in. Oddly enough he was the only one who flinched. Everyone else just let out a quiet sigh. Except Mustang, who was smirking.

"Well, well, Fullmetal. About time you showed up," Mustang said.

Reed felt his heart rate speed up and allowed himself to look at the door.

 _'Yes, that was definitely the Fullmetal Alchemist'_

Reed had never officially met him, but one couldn't walk through Eastern Command without hearing things. There was a lot he still didn't know about the young alchemist. However, this time, he found his eyes shifting to the alchemist's brother and wondered how two people so drastically different in height could be related to each other. Oh, well, that was genetics.

"Whatever, I'm here now," The young alchemist spat.

"You should be more punctual. Or else you'll leave us _short_ on time," Mustang said.

However, the young alchemist simply growled at the Colonel's remark. He then plopped himself down on the nearest couch and rested his feet on the table.

"I'm not in the mood, Mustang. Now what do you want?" he spat. Mustang frowned and seemed to study the boy before him. Reed wondered if the alchemist would be reprimanded. However the Colonel simply shifted the papers on his desk.

"Before we get started I just want to remind you all that this is a top priority mission. Any leaking the information said here will be met with an immediate court martial." they all nodded. "Well then, I'm sure you are all aware of the resistance group operating in the northeast. They call themselves the White Wolves." Reed took a sharp intake of breath. Luckily, no one had noticed. Instead everyone's gaze had wandered over to the Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed, however did not seem to notice. As he was glaring intently on Mustang. Reed began to wonder what he was missing out on.

"Wasn't that the group that set fire to some military warehouses a few months back?" Havoc said, easing the tension.

"Yes, the group has mainly been conducting small raids and attacks on military personnel. However for a few months now, they have been steadily growing in numbers. Since then their actions have escaladed. In other words they have become more of a problem then we first anticipated." Mustang paused, "Then, two weeks ago, they destroyed the Ukon train station." Everyone sucked in a breath.

The Ukon train station was the end of the line for those heading northeast, for a resistance group to do something so rash.

Mustang continued, "Understandably, this requires the militaries immediate response. However, we have little knowledge of the group-"

"And the military wants us to find out more," Edward said finishing the Colonel's sentence.

"Yes," Mustang said. "Now, Fullmetal, as you ran into this group a while back and have recently been in the northeast area. Therefore you will be going on this mission-"

"Fine," Ed interrupted, "just give me what information you have on the group and I'll be back in a week."

"You didn't let me finish my sentence." Mustang said gritting his teeth. "As I was saying, you will be going on this mission along with Lieutenant Reed, Lieutenant Hawkeye, and _I._ " Mustang said. The entire room was awkwardly silent. Falman had begun to inspect his nails and Fuery was staring at the floor. Reed knew he was missing out on something.

"And just what does a bastard like you have to gain from this?" Ed asked.

"Don't flatter yourself Fullmetal. The military simply requested that two State Alchemists go on this mission. You have never been on an undercover mission like this before. I'll just be there to make sure you don't screw up," Mustang said.

However Reed doubted that this was the real reason Mustang was going on this mission. It was unusual for Colonels to go on missions of this state. Was it possible the military knew the truth about the northeast border?

Fullmetal didn't seem to buy it either.

"And this has nothing to do with what happened three weeks ago?" Ed asked. Alphonse, who had remain silent until now spoke up.

"Brother…" he warned.

Mustang stared at his subordinate before answering. "Yes, your recent run in with this group will prove valuable for this mission. However, as I said, you have never done a covert mission like this before _and_ the military requested two state alchemists for this mission. So like it or not, we will be working together."

Ed scowled, but neither seemed to want to press the matter further.

Reed began to wonder keenly on what happened three weeks ago. He knew the Fullmetal Alchemist had been hospitalized for some time. However it also seemed that he had run in to the White Wolves. Was that the cause for his hospitalization?

Mustang moved on. "Lieutenant Reed, your work during the Parktown Incident was admirable. For that reason you have been assigned to this mission."

If Mustang had noticed Reed stiffen at his words he didn't show it. Reed had been hoping the military would forget about the Parktown Incident. However, here he was two months later being sent on his "first" covert mission. This wasn't going to end well.

"The military has little information on this group. They last estimated the group to consist of roughly 200 people. There are also rumors of a few alchemists being among their midst. Our mission is to find out how many people are associated in this group and to analyze their defensive capabilities. This mission requires absolute secrecy. For that matter Lieutenant Havoc and Sergeant Fuery, you will be going to Heinsworth."

"Isn't Heinsworth that small military base before Ukon?" Havoc asked.

"Yes. Should the military attack the resistance group, it will be coordinated through that base. Al, if you wish, you can tag along with them. Breda and Falman, you will remain in East City. While in three days, Hawkeye, Fullmetal, and Reed; we will meet up at the East City train station." Mustang said as he passed Reed and Fullmetal each a folder. "These are your papers, wear civilian clothing when you report."

"Sir," Hawkeye spoke for the first time. "How do we propose we get to Ukon? Surely someone would notice four people suddenly showing up."

"The government has been sending down workers to clean up and repair the station. We will be posing as construction workers," Mustang said.

Ed had been flipping through his file when he suddenly froze.

"This says that I will be posing as your apprentice," Ed said bitterly.

If possible the tension in the room thickened.

Mustang shrugged, "We needed a reasonable excuse why a 13 year old boy would be tagging along."

Ed began to mutter something that Reed would never dare to say to a commanding officer.

"Another thing, Fullmetal," Mustang said, "You are not to preform alchemy during this mission."

That seemed to be the last straw for Ed.

"You have got to be kidding me! First you make me go on a mission without Al, then you tag along, and now no alchemy!" Ed said, annoyed.

"This is a covert mission, Fullmetal. We can't stand out," Mustang said.

"Just because the military ordered it, doesn't mean I have to be happy with it," Ed replied.

Mustang seemed to ignore his statement.

"Do any of you have any questions?" Mustang asked. They shook their heads. "Alright, that concludes this meeting. You are dismissed."

Reed felt dazed, as he exited the meeting. Although he would have to admit the plan itself was pretty good, having covert operatives sneak down with construction workers. He couldn't shake the feeling of disaster. The truth was he knew more about the White Wolves resistance group than anyone in that room.

 _'This is not going to end well. The military as no idea what we are walking into. Those Wolves won't go down without a fight. It's more than just a rag tag group of civilians; the Shadow Alchemist faked his death to join that group. And last time you checked they had a bombs expert as well. We are so screwed.'_

For once Reed had to acknowledge that his racing mind was being perfectly reasonable.

* * *

That night, after his shift, Reed sat quietly at a slowly emptying café. He was sipping his drink and flipping through a newspaper. Seated on the bar stools looking out to the street. A young woman casually walked over to him.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked quietly, gesturing to the seat next to him.

"No," he responded. They sat next to each other in silence for a few minutes until they were certain no one was listening.

"You said this was important?" the woman asked.

"Yes, I have a new mission," he said.

"What are the specifics?" she asked.

"I am to go on a covert mission to investigate the White Wolves," he said. The woman choked on her drink.

"What?" she gasped. "When do you leave?"

"Three days from now," he replied. The woman next to him cursed.

"I really hate this damn country; giving us so little time to prepare," she said shaking her head, "Enough about that. What were you thinking getting assigned to a covert mission? Did you forget about the Parktown incident? At this rate you'll get your cover blown!"

"I know, okay. It's not like I chose this mission," he said.

"You know despite what my superiors say, you are actually an important person. Do you know how many of our spies have infiltrated the Amestrian military? Not a lot! And if you get your ass killed, it falls back on me!"

"I know, I don't need a lecture." He sighed. "Don't worry about my cover, I've kept it for this long I can keep it for another mission. Just get word back about this case as fast as you can. And be discrete, this is top secret."

"Aren't they all top secret." She took another sip of her drink. "Fine, I'll report back as quickly as I can. Anything else I should know?"

"Yes, I'll be working with Colonel Mustang and the Fullmetal Alchemist," he said.

"As if this can't get any worse." She sighed. "Do the Amestrians have any good intel on the resistance group?"

"No, not much. Our orders are to head to Ukon to investigate the train station, find out how many members the resistance group has, and if possible the identity of their leaders."

The woman nodded, "Okay, I'll see if I can get someone to contact you when you reach Ukon. It'll probably be through the usual way."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, until then just lay low and don't blow your cover," she warned.

"You don't have to keep reminding me," he said.

"I'm your handler. I get to remind you as much as I like." She paused. "We had to pull a lot of strings to get one of our operatives in the military, do not screw it up." And with that she was gone.

* * *

\- three days later -

Reed was the last to arrive at the train station. His racing mind had plagued him all night and his eyes were heavy with fatigue and stress.

Mustang, Hawkeye, and Ed were already at the meeting point. Which was a bench nearby the ticket booth. They were all dressed in civilian clothing.

Reed sat down next to Mustang and pretended to read a book.

"So, we're all here," Mustang whispered, not looking up. "You all remember what to do?"

"Of course we do. We're not as dim as you think, Mustang." Ed said. "The trip down to Ukon is the easy part." He was wearing black gloves to cover his automail and wore his hair tucked into a hat.

Mustang ignored him, "When we get on the train we must look like we don't know each other. Don't speak to each other unless absolutely necessary. Understood?"

"Yes," they answered.

"Alright," Mustang said. "We won't meet up again until we reach Ukon. Until then try to blend in with the rest of the workers."

The sharp shrill of an approaching train made then look up.

"That's our train. Good luck, everyone," Mustang said. Then he stood and walked up to the platform. Ed followed him. Reed continued to look down at the book on his lap, intending to follow after a few moments. Suddenly, he felt something touch his foot. He looked down. It was a jacket.

"There's a pocket knife, pistol, and a few rounds inside the jacket." Hawkeye said. "Keep them with you."

"Oh… thank you," Reed said. Honestly, he had been so worked up over this mission that the thought of weapons hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Don't mention it. Just keep your eyes open and watch out for Ed and the Colonel," she said.

Before Reed could ask her what she meant. She had stood and was boarding the train. Reed waited a few second before retrieving the rolled up jacket. Then he too boarded the train.

He chose a seat nearby a window and plopped his book on his lap. Ed was right; the trip down to Ukon would be the easy part. Once in Ukon so many things could go wrong. The possibility that he would be discovered would drastically increase. Heck, someone might even recognize him.

He looked out the window as the train pulled away from the station. The city turning into a blur beside him as the train picked up speed. He tried to make out as much of it as he could, cherishing the temporary feeling of peace. For he knew that he might never walk these streets again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors Note:_

 _I apologize; I meant to post this chapter long ago. I had actually written the first draft, but when I went to revise it, I realized just how much of a crucial chapter it was. I ended up doing many revisions after that. Normally, I write on my computer, but was away from home for a few weeks and had to write it on my phone (which is really hard). Anyway, I hope to get the next chapter up soon, I just need to work out some plot points._

 _I'm trying to make it a little obvious where Reed is from, but haven't found a good place in the story to really confirm it._

 _This chapter is longer than the last one. I hope you all enjoy it._ _Reviews are always appreciated._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

Reed dreamt of his family.

He dreamt of the night he left them.

His dreams always recreated his memories to the exact detail. It was a gift, because he would never be able to forget their faces. Yet it was a curse to be constantly reminded of their sorrow.

He remembered the day, remembered the house. He grew up in a small shack at the base of the northern mountain range. His troop was following a route at the base of the mountains, before heading further south.

For days, he had begged his commander to let him say goodbye. He only needed 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes. The route they were taking would pass within 5 miles of his house, he knew he could never live with himself if he truly left without saying goodbye.

His commander refused.

He ended up bribing him with everything he had. He volunteered to clean the tents, to do night watch, he volunteered to do every grueling job in the camp, but the man still said no. In the end he stole a gold watch from another soldier. The soldier would later beat him for taking it, but that didn't matter. His commander accepted the bribe.

It wasn't necessarily lucky that he got to say goodbye. If anything it hurt even more.

It had been well past sunset when he arrived at his home. When his mother opened the door she had been utterly stunned at his presence. For a few seconds she seemed relived that he was alive and well. She ushered him inside, smiling. His lack of emotion must have signaled that something was wrong. As he explained to her his new mission, her relief quickly turned to stunned silence.

He was now an operative in Operation Dagger.

There would be no more letters. No communication at all. He was never coming home.

She began to cry.

He tried the best he could to comfort her, but he knew it was in vain.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay. I will be with people I know and they will look after me. I'll be fine, mom."

His mother simply sat in a chair, eyes brimming with tears. He crouched before her.

"It will be alright. The army will continue to care for you. You will get food and supplies." He voice cracked a bit and he hoped she didn't notice. "My sister and brother would still be able to go to school. They'll get a good education."

He tried to sound as confident as he could, as if a few words could make everything alright.

Still his mother said nothing.

The howling wind grew louder and shook the house.

He blinked back the tears which were forming in his eyes. Now wasn't the time for tears. He had to be strong. There was never a time for weakness.

"Come on mom. Say something. Please," he begged. The silence eating away at him.

She looked at him and her tears began to fall. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it, lost for words.

They were both startled by a sudden banging at the door.

"Come on, boy, one minute left. We need to keep moving."

He looked back at his mother.

"That's my commander… I need… I need to leave now..." he said. His heart panged with helplessness. He took a long look at her face, then turned to leave. But stopped, feeling his mother's hand pull him back. He turned to face her for the last time.

Her face was full of tears, her eyes watery and sad. Her voice broke when she spoke.

"I just want to say that I'm proud. I'm so proud. You always made sure we would be taken care of. No matter the cost." She sniffled. "And now you are going on this dangerous mission… and I just want you to know… that I care about you. I love you so much. I'm going to miss you."

She pulled him into a hug.

"Goodbye, mother," he said. They broke away after a few moments knowing if he held on any longer he would never be able to let go.

He crossed the room to the front door. And stood there for a moment, not willing or ready to leave.

Was this really the end?

He heard small footsteps approach behind him, causing him to turn around.

"Brother!" a small voice said.

"Sis," he said, forcing himself to smile. He crouched down so that they were eye to eye. "Why are you still awake?"

"I thought I heard you." She said, looking at him with her bright eyes. "Here." she said, handing him something. "We meant to send this in the next letter, but now that you are here, I can give it to you in person."

He looked from her beaming face to the object in his hand, turning it over. It was a leather bracelet. The leather felt sturdy and hard and had been decorated with several engraved symbols.

"Little brother and I made it. Here, let me show you." She said, pointing. "These are the mountains and here, is our house. Those three dots next to it are mama, little brother, and me," she said proudly. "I couldn't draw people so we did dots instead. If you look on the far side of the mountains there is another dot. That's you."

"This is very cool," he said. "And what's that?" he asked, pointing to a lone dot located above the mountains.

"That's dad," she said quietly.

He blinked his eyes slowly, overcome by a sudden wave of sadness. He pulled his sister into a hug.

"I'll miss you," he admitted. She buried her face in his chest and squeezed him tight.

After a moment he let go and slipped the bracelet on his wrist, hiding it under his black sleave.

His mother had walked over. Her face now clear of tears, but her eyes red. She picked up her daughter.

"You should go now. I don't want to get you into trouble," she said.

He nodded and rose, taking one last look at them.

"Goodbye," he said, choking on the words.

"Be safe," they replied.

The door opened and closed.

He stood there for a moment, eyes shut, letting the snow blow into his face, feeling the warmth leave his body.

He forced himself to take one step, then two, on and on, again and again; until he was far away.

Until he had left behind everything he had ever cherished.

* * *

Reed awoke with tears in his eyes.

He took a few seconds to compose himself, breathing in a gentle rhythm. He silently wiped the tears away.

He hadn't dreamt like this in a while. Paranoia after the Parktown Incident caused him to spent most nights staring at his ceiling, trying not to imagine the worst.

It was unusual for him to go that long without thinking of his family. On reflex, Reed traced the leather bracelet around his wrist, since that day 5 years ago, he had never taken it off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small family of four. The mother had a little boy asleep in her lap. She herself had fallen asleep and was leaning against the father. On the other side of the man, a little girl was sleeping against the window, her legs resting on her father's knees.

Reed took a deep breath, suddenly reminded of his own siblings. By now, his sister would have grown up so much. She would be 17 years old. Reed wondered how she had matured from the little girl that used to play dress up in his father's old coats. What kind of person had she become? Did she still like animals? Has she pursued her interest in art or did she have a new hobby? Reed would never know.

Then there was his little brother. He had just been 4 years old when he enlisted and 8 when he last saw him. Reed had barely gotten to know him. He wondered should they see each other, if they ever saw each other, would he be able to recognize him?

Reed hoped they didn't despise him for leaving. He hoped that they understood that it was his only choice. Yet, he knew that he would never know. Unless a miracle happened, he would never go home. In his country, once a part of the army, you were never allowed to leave.

The fact that he had to live the rest of his life, never knowing, hurt him immensely. He would rather be certain that they hated him, then be unknowing of their love. In a way he was grateful for his dreams, he was able to remember with crystal clarity the good times they had. Nothing could take that from him.

Part of him truly despised his country. Truly hated his superiors for taking him away from his family. Yet, he knew that that wasn't fair. He had been the one to enlist. It had been out of desperation, but it had still been his choice.

It was ultimately his decision, and he made it knowing exactly what might happen. He knew that he might never return home. He both hated himself for it, and commended himself for his selflessness.

Reed shoved his feelings aside, trying to let the numbness overtake him. He had felt enough for today.

He had to remember what he was. He was merely a faceless soldier, unimportant to the vast scope of war. When he enlisted, he lost the right to personal feelings and ambitions. Now, his one and only duty was to the mission, nothing else.

That didn't make it any easier. As much as Reed harden his heart, he was still living a lie. His rank, his name, his whole life was not his own. He had stolen it. That fact pained him more than any homesickness.

He had been stripped of his family and his identity. He was a spy in a foreign country, whose only loyalty was to the mission at hand.

But what was this mission? It was just some overly ambitious intelligence operation. Nothing more.

Reed shook his head. He had to stop thinking these things. The only one he could truly blame was himself, he didn't get to complain.

 _'This is all your fault. Your mess you made and your mess to clean up._ _And now look at you. Look at the mess of a life you live'_

Reed tried to focus his attention elsewhere. Nobody else seemed to be awake so he turned his attention to the jacket Hawkeye gave him. Discretely, he hid the gun and knife within his own coat. Then he shoved the jacket as well as the rounds into his bag.

He thought absently of Colonel Mustang and his team. At the mission briefing, Reed felt out of place. It seemed as if everyone had a firm grasp on what was going on, but him. Which was understandable, he wasn't a part of the team. However it raised the question as to why Mustang had chosen him for this mission. If the Colonel was to be believed, it was due to his work on the Parktown incident. But then again, Mustang said that he was going on the mission because the state required two alchemists, and Reed seriously doubted that.

Could Mustang be suspicious of him? It seemed plausible, Mustang was the one to debrief him after the Parktown Incident.

However the events at the debriefing suggested that Edward might be the reason for the Colonel's presence. Why, Reed had yet to find out.

Yet Reed could guess all he wanted and it still wouldn't bring him closer to the truth.

Not knowing made Reed extremely uneasy, but since the mission debriefing Reed had been preoccupied with something else.

Maybe it was just returning to the northeast area, but whatever it was; Reed had been unable to shake the unending feeling of disaster.

And it was getting worse the closer they got to Ukon.

* * *

Reed estimated that they were still about 8 miles from Ukon when the train rolled to a stop. Those left on the train began to look around, confused.

"Maybe something's wrong with the engine," someone suggested. Reed doubted that, but before anyone else could voice their thoughts the train conductor entered the car.

"Alright folks." He called out in a loud voice. "This is the end of the line. Everyone heading to Ukon needs to get off the train."

"And what do you mean by that?" One man protested. "Why can't you take us to Ukon?"

"Idiot," another man answered, "The station's destroyed remember."

"Well, nothing's wrong with the tracks," the other man said.

"Be quiet and listen up!" The conductor shouted. "As a matter of fact there is something wrong with the tracks. Those dammed White Wolves have destroyed large sections of it, not to mention they have been looting trains that get too close to their territory. So this is as far that this train goes. If you want to go further, then get your butt off the train and start walking."

"He can't be serious," said someone behind Reed.

"I'm dammed well serious." The conductor spat. "Anyone still on this train in 15 minutes is heading back to Heinsworth."

Slowly those around Reed began to collect their belongings. Reed slipped his book into his bag before rising.

"Just follow the tracks, or what's left of them, and you should be in Ukon by noon." The conductor said. "Oh, and when you get there tell them that another train will be here at this spot at 5 o'clock this evening and they better not be late."

Without another word the man went on to inform the next car. Wondering what that was all about Reed got off the train and looked around. They had stopped in the middle of a field. In the distance one could see a few hills and forests. Reed found himself shuddering at the thought of those woods. He held sour memories of the place and tried his best not to think about it.

About 30 people had gotten off the train. They formed a little group as they began the long walk to Ukon. Reed could see Hawkeye to his left while Mustang and Ed were further ahead to his right.

It was about an hour into their walk when they passed the first ruined track. Those in the front had stopped abruptly, leaving those in the back to wonder what was wrong, but a quick glance told them everything.

The track looked as if someone had pulled it from the ground and tied it in a knot. The metal was stretched and twisted in a way that no ordinary human or machine could ever manage. The group simply stared at it for a few minutes, wondering what the hell they had gotten themselves into. Reed noticed Mustang and Ed toward the front of the crowd, talking in low voices. He guessed that Ed had spotted the transmutation marks on the metal.

Another hour into their walk found them walking through a forest. It was here when Reed started to recognize the landscape. He saw an old windy tree they had used as a meet up point and a boulder, which was actually hollow. Reed might have been gone for years, but nature hadn't changed.

He contemplated for a moment the last time he was here. The Wolves had been merely a small and determined band of rebels. They had been popular among the people, because they looked after their best interests. Their leader never took unnecessary risks. He had been relatively kind to Reed, all things considered. If he hadn't tried to kill Reed so many times, Reed would have found him a man of great respect.

However, from what the military had reported, things had changed.

So far the Wolves had blown up a station, destroyed large areas of track, and been looting trains. And they hadn't even arrived in Ukon.

Things were escalating.

Reed took a casual survey of the group, trying to make it seem as if he was bored, which he was. Hawkeye had kept a consistent pace and was still to his left. However Mustang and Ed had fallen to the back of the group, walking just quick enough to not get left behind. From the quick glance he could spare, it seemed as if the walk was taking a toll on Edward, but he might have imagined it.

Walking was a simple task which allowed Reed's mind to run wild, over analyzing every detail. He wished that he could do something entertaining, like reading his book. Not that he was actually reading it. Sometimes he would have a book and pretend to read it. It helped him look normal. The book he currently had, he chose solely, because it's cover looked cool. Every time he would "read" it, he would move the bookmark forward a few pages. Sometimes he would read a paragraph or two, but nothing more.

On the train, before Reed had fallen asleep, he had read a whole page out of boredom. In that one little page, a boy, whom Reed assumed was the main character, was chasing after his beloved dog, running deeper and deeper into a forest, before getting lost.

It seemed to be a simple story.

It was around noon, when they spotted the town of Ukon in the distance.

Reed's heart began to pound erratically in his chest. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

The hard part had just begun.

* * *

Once they entered the town they were greeted by a cheerful man who spoke in one long unending ramble.

"Hello there, you must be the new construction workers. Glad to have you here. My name's Mark. I am in charge of the reconstruction of the Ukon train station. So if you have any questions or concerns feel free to run them by me." Mark said enthusiastically. "Now then there seems to be 1… 2… 3…" he said as he counted the number of people present. "28! Good, little less than we were promised, but we'll make do. Right now it's lunchtime, so no one is at the construction site. But let's take this opportunity for me to show you folks were you'll be staying. Now if you'll follow me…" he said and begun to walk deeper into town, the group awkwardly following.

"You guys will be at that inn." He said pointing to a nearby building. "Lunch doesn't end for another half hour so feel free to take that time to settle in a bit, then be ready to report to the construction site at 1 o'clock sharp. Any questions?" he asked.

Even if they did have questions, no one voiced any. It all seemed straightforward enough.

"Okay, then, I'll leave you folks to it, see you in half an hour," Mark said, leaving.

The innkeepers took no time setting them up in their rooms. Reed's was located on the second floor facing the street. Hawkeye's was next to his. Mustang and Ed were bunked together down the hall. Reed swore he saw Ed's face turn red with the innkeeper said he had put Mustang and Ed in the same room.

As the man had put it, " _The young lad will be staying with you, good sir. I'm sure you won't mind keeping an eye on your young apprentice. You know how irresponsible children can be."_

Reed was sure that had they not been on a covert mission; that man would have been on the floor nursing a black eye.

For a small town, the rooms they were given weren't that bad. They consisted of a small bed, bath, and some scarce furniture. Reed was content. He had dealt with worse. He sat his bag down on the only chair and looked out the window. He personally had never entered Ukon, but he knew the area well. He sighed, knowing that later he would receive his orders. Up until then this mission had remained relatively straightforward, but after that meeting, anything could happen.

His heart began to beat faster and he had to take slow breaths to calm down.

He waited with his back against his door until he was sure that he had heard everyone else leave the floor. Then he exited his room and quietly rapped on Hawkeye's door before heading down to Mustang's room. Everyone was out at lunch and they hadn't really met anyone yet. This was a good time, most likely one of the only times, the four of them would be able to meet up and not be missed.

Mustang opened the door, letting in Reed and Hawkeye.

"I can't believe you're making me miss lunch." Ed complained once they were all inside. "You do realize that we haven't eaten since the train."

"I understand that, Fullmetal, but this is an important mission and we need to stay focused," Mustang said.

"Well, I can't focus if I'm hungry," Ed said.

Hawkeye, who must have anticipated this, sighed before taking out a sandwich from her pocket and tossed it to Ed.

"You were saying, Colonel," she said.

"Now that we have successfully arrived in Ukon. Our orders are to find out just how much support and members the White Wolves have. Be extremely careful when gathering information and don't ask too many questions. No one in this town knows that we are military. The mayor and his counsel were not told of this mission,"

"You mean the military didn't tell them anything?" Ed asked, his mouth full.

"No, they feared that they might be allied with the White Wolves and didn't want to take the risk. All they know is that the military has been sending construction workers to rebuild the station," Mustang said.

"So, then how are we reporting our findings back to Heinsworth?" Reed asked, even more uneasy then before.

"Ukon has still been sending and receiving mail. We have a preset system; we will address coded messages to a contact in Heinsworth. They should receive our messages in no less than three days," Mustang said.

"And if something urgent happens?" Hawkeye asked.

"Then we deal with it ourselves. The military has asked the Ukon city government to send daily reports on how many workers are present on the construction site. If we go missing, they'll know," Mustang said.

"Not very reassuring," Ed said.

"Well it's a dangerous mission," Mustang said, "All this means is that we have no room for screw ups. That means we don't blow our cover. We don't take unnecessary risks. Don't act like you know each other and don't talk to each other unless you can do so without raising suspicion."

"We get the drill," Ed said, swallowing down the rest of his sandwich. He plopped backwards on his bed, cringing slightly, as if in pain. His grabbed at his shirt collar and rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to relax. "Anyway, those train tracks we saw, they were definitely destroyed with alchemy,"

"You're sure?" Hawkeye asked.

"Yeah, they had transmutation marks," Ed said.

"That means that the White Wolves must have an alchemist among them, and by the looks of it a skillful one," Hawkeye said.

"We should investigate how the station was destroyed. If we can find out who did it-" Mustang said.

"-then we can work backward and find more members of the White Wolves," Ed said, completing his sentence.

"It might be worthwhile to see what Mark knows. He is in charge of the whole project," Reed said.

"Good idea, Reed, you should get close to him, it would be suspicious if all four of us started asking him questions" Mustang said, "Ed and I will keep an eye out for evidence of alchemy. Hawkeye, I want you to analyze the defensive and offensive capabilities of this town and it's inhabitants. Keep an eye out for hidden weapon storages. The next postal truck arrives in Ukon in three days. We will meet again shortly before that."

* * *

The first thing Reed noticed when he arrived at the construction site was how utterly destroyed it was. Nothing of the original structure remained and parts of the foundation seemed to have been redone. Whoever destroyed it meant business.

The second thing he noticed was the shouting.

"Come on, Mark. You promised us we could go as soon as you got replacements." One worker argued, "Replacements have arrived, now what's the hold up."

"I'm sorry, but the military requested that no less than 100 workers be working on the station at one time. I asked for 35 replacements and 28 have arrived. That means of the 35 of you who were planning on leaving today, the last 7 cannot leave," Mark said, fatigued.

"Since when does what the military say ever matter?" another worker asked.

"Well, we can either follow their orders or we let them come over here and carry them out themselves." Mark said. His words were met with grumbling. "That's what I thought. Now, those 28 are now free to leave. Everyone else please resume working."

The crowd slowly began to disperse. Reed took a look at the station. They seemed to be working on the basic framework. The afternoon consisted of manual labor and small talk with other workers. Reed took the time to chat with almost every worker he came across, building up a more outgoing persona than he really had. It was so that when he went around asking questions, it wouldn't seem out of place.

He kept an eye out for an opportunity to talk to Mark, but he couldn't find a good time. He didn't see much of Ed and Mustang, as they were working on the other side of the site. Hawkeye, however was working relatively nearby him. Once when Reed could spare a glance, he noticed how she was discretely studying the buildings around them. He became suddenly aware of the gun hidden within his own jacket and traced the leather bracelet around his wrist. Despite meeting her a few days ago, he had a feeling he shouldn't cross her.

As the sun slowly descended down the sky, Reed grew more and more anxious. His meeting with the other Dagger operative was inevitable. That itself was enough to put him on edge, but another thing worried him.

He hadn't seen any members of the White Wolves.

Maybe he wasn't paying attention enough, maybe he had been gone too long and could no longer recognize their faces, but something else was off.

The townsfolk seemed ordinary. They did not seem uneasy. They did not glare or act coldly toward them. Instead, they seemed to have welcomed the construction workers warmly. Yet for some reason, the construction workers were leaving in droves.

If it wasn't for the destroyed train station Reed wouldn't have ever considered the possibility that this town would be affiliated with the Wolves. However he was able to recognize the work of the Wolves' bombs expert.

In a passing comment with some workers he was able to put together how the train station had been destroyed. Reportedly, the townspeople weren't talking about it. One day, a train had simply arrived in Ukon to find the whole station in ruins. However the way they described the wreckage and the fact that the foundation had a slight crater in it made Reed believe that the station had been destroyed with a bomb.

However he knew that he couldn't report that to the Colonel. It would seem suspicious if he was too good at intelligence work.

The best he could do was lay low until he received his orders. He'll figure out everything else after that.

* * *

At the end of the workday Reed took the time to help put away all the tools. He did so for two main reasons. One: it would give him an excuse to loiter around the town and meet up with the Dagger Operative. And two: it seemed like the other construction workers were incapable of cleaning up after themselves.

Seriously, everyone had literally dropped what he or she was doing when the workday ended. Some didn't even drop off their toolboxes in the storage shed. Reed spent half and hour bringing all the equipment back to the shed for lock up. Some toolboxes wouldn't even close. Reed found one that held 12 of the same exact screwdriver and later another one which only contained a single brick.

Reed must have been engrossed with what he was doing, because he didn't hear Mark approach until he had spoken.

"Thanks for doing that," Mark said.

Reed looked up. "No problem," he said. Now was his chance to talk to Mark. "When they said this station was destroyed, they really weren't kidding," Reed said, scratching his head.

"You can say that again," Mark said.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are there so many workers leaving?" Reed asked, switching his tone so he sounded more confused then he really was.

"I guess you have a right to know." Mark admitted. "The thing is the resistance group has been vandalizing the station. Twice now, we've had to start from scratch."

"That's a bother," Reed said.

"It's more than that. If we get anymore setbacks the military is threatening to come over and oversee construction themselves," Mark said.

"And you are opposed to that?" Reed asked.

"It's more like half of the town is opposed to it, bringing soldiers to Ukon will only end in bloodshed," Mark said.

"Anything I should be worried about?" Reed asked.

Mark smiled, "You should be fine. The townsfolk have been leaving the construction workers alone. I think they appreciate the extra business,"

Reed nodded, understanding. He closed the door to the shed and began to head back. He paused when he realized Mark wasn't following him.

"You're not coming?" he asked.

"Nope, I'm staying here tonight," Mark said.

"Any particular reason why?" Reed asked. Staying at a construction site overnight didn't sound fun.

"It's nothing," Mark said.

Reed thought quickly. He had to find out why Mark was staying, but he didn't want to push too hard. He had to choose his next words very carefully.

"If it's dangerous, you probably shouldn't be alone. Should I to stay with you?" Reed offered knowing that Mark would decline.

"Oh, no, it's really nothing," Mark said, taken aback.

"Are you sure?" Reed asked.

"Yeah, I'm just staying to make sure no one vandalizes the site, it's nothing big," Mark said.

"Is that safe?" Reed asked, trying to sound naive.

"I doubt they would try anything if there are witnesses around." Mark said. "And the town knows that I am the only thing stopping the military from coming down here, so I don't think they'll hurt me."

"Okay, then," Reed said. He had dug up a reasonable amount of information. If he continued to ask questions, Mark might grow suspicious. Best to wait till tomorrow to dig up anything more.

 _'So you're just going to leave Mark here by himself'_

Reed swallowed, surprised at his sudden concern.

 _'Mark is just any ordinary person and this is a very dangerous town, he could get hurt'_

Reed sighed. He was being unreasonable. Even if he wanted to stop Mark from doing anything potentially dangerous, Reed knew that he should just let Mark be. As a spy he had to look after himself and only himself. He couldn't do anything to jeopardize the mission.

 _'Still doesn't make it right.'_

Reed forced himself to turn away.

"Good night," he called over his shoulder. He could feel guilt building up within himself, but forced himself to ignore it. It was acting on thoughts like these which got him in trouble in the first place. He couldn't take any risks. He took a risk in Parktown mission and it backfired. He just needed to keep his head down until it all blew over.

 _'You know that not going to work'_

Reed closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore his racing mind.


	3. Chapter 3

_Authors Note:_

 _For various reasons I have chosen to post this chapter sooner than I originally planned._

 _The main reason was simply that, this week, I had a lot of time on my hands. I was able to finish revising this chapter, outline future plot points, and start a draft for the next chapter._ _I kept this chapter short because I wanted to keep a certain tone and carry it through._

 _I have written a few short stories in the past, but this is my first fanfic. As such, I am a little intimidated by the task I have taken on. However I am none the less determined to keep telling this story and tell it well._

 _Hope you guys enjoy it. Special thanks to everyone who_ _reviewed so far. You guys really motivate me to keep writing._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

No one had contacted Reed at the meet up spot. He had stayed there for as long as he would dare, waiting for the other Dagger operative to show, but eventually he had to give up.

Discouraged, Reed began to walk back to the inn. He was halfway to his destination when he had the sudden feeling he was being followed. So, he took a shortcut between two buildings, hoping to lure out his follower. He turned a corner into a dark alley and hid behind a nearby crate. He could hear footsteps approaching. Getting closer and closer.

If the person behind him were just an ordinary townsperson, then they would simply continue to walk past him. However if someone were truly following him then they would stop and look around to see where he had gone.

Reed weighed his chances. It would be risky to confront the person head on, but it would be even more dangerous to let them continue tracking him. He slid his pocketknife out from his pocket, after all, a pocket knife is easier to explain than a gun. He would have never dared to do this in East City, but this was a dangerous town. There was no telling who this person might be.

Whoever they were, they had reached the corner.

They took a few steps into the alley then stopped and began to look around.

Reed didn't hesitate. Within a few second he had the knife pressed firmly to their neck.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

They didn't answer. They just stood perfectly still. Reed was certain by now that they had to be an operative of some sort. An ordinary person would have freaked out if a knife was pressed to their neck.

His follower was a woman. Reed couldn't see her face, but her hair was worn in a ponytail and she wore a simple dress customary with the area.

Reed pressed the knife harder against her neck. The blade wasn't particularity sharp, but should he press any harder it would draw blood. Finally she spoke.

"It's a beautiful day," she said casually.

Reed almost dropped his knife. To an ordinary person her words would be insane, but to Reed it as a code. It was a code used by those in Operation Dagger. They used it when spies first contacted each other, as proof that they were both spies. Slightly stunned Reed said the next exchange of the code.

"Yes, but a bit chilly," he said.

"You like the cold?" she asked.

"It reminds me of home," Reed said, lowering his knife. There was no doubt about it, the person before him was who he was supposed to meet. "Why didn't you meet me at the point of contact?" he asked.

The woman turned around to face him. She seemed to be a few years older than Reed. In the low light Reed could make out her dark brown hair and grey eyes.

"There were too many people around, I didn't want anyone to overhear," she said, though Reed doubted that that was the real reason.

"Then you have my orders," he said, wanting to get to the point.

"Yes, you are travelling with the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemist, correct?" she said.

"Yes, as well as Lieutenant Hawkeye," he responded.

"Very well." She said. "You are familiar with the White Wolves resistance group?"

"Yes, I was their contact before I was transferred to my current position," he said.

She grinned, "Then it seems I have taken over your role."

Reed narrowed his eyes. It was unusual for the Wolves' contact to be allowed to walk around a town like this. The contact was often barely more than a hostage. While he was their contact they had barely allowed him to leave the woods. But maybe things had changed, or maybe they just had made an exception for this meeting.

That didn't stop the panic from growing inside him. He tried his best to ignore it.

"How much do the Amestrians know about the White Wolves?" she asked.

"Not much. They know that they are a resistance group which had recently gained popularity, but not much other than that. They are currently unaware of our involvement with them," he said.

"Good. We don't want them knowing too much." She said. "As you might have guessed this is a very crucial mission. In fact, the fate of our alliance with the White Wolves will be determined within the next week."

"What do you mean?" Reed asked. The resistance group held immense strategic value to their whole operation. What would posses their superiors to threaten that relationship?

"In the past few months, the Wolves have been more and more rash. Sooner or later the military is going to need to take action against them," she said.

"And our superiors don't believe the group can survive a full on attack from the Amestris military," he said.

"Oh, we don't just believe it. We know it for sure. The Wolves have plenty of numbers and ambition, but little weapons and other supplies. However, our superiors are reluctant to give up the strategic advantage the group possesses. They believe that they should be given another chance." She tilted her head casually. "The group is currently planning a raid on the military depot in Heinsworth."

"What?" he said. The military depot in Heinsworth was a very well protected base. He wondered if the group could actually pull it off.

The woman nodded, "It will all come down to how successful the attack is. If by some chance the attack succeeds then our superiors believe that a further alliance with the group would be justified. Should the group have enough weapons, as well as our support, they might just be able to put up a strong enough fight. The military would have to pour a lot of resources into maintaining a fight like that. Our superiors hope that a continuous conflict would help to weaken and divide the country."

Reed could see where she was coming from. It was unlikely that the group would succeed. However, if they put up a strong enough fight, and if they supported them, the group could decrease the military's power.

"And if the attack fails?" he asked.

"Oh, that's the fun part." She giggled. "Should the attack fail, then the group will no longer be of use to us. Besides they are starting to know too much about us anyway."

Reed stiffened, the group wasn't supposed to know _anything_ about them. That's what a _covert_ mission meant.

She continued on, "If the attack should fail then kill the Fullmetal Alchemist."

 _"What?"_

"Of course don't make it obvious. Stage it in a way that it can be blamed on the White Wolves," she said casually.

Reed understood. Ed was well respected, especially in the East. There was no chance the military would just stand by after the death of a State Alchemist. They would take it as an insult to have him die at the hands of a measly resistance group. If he should kill Ed, the White Wolves will likely be destroyed.

"And these are my orders?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Yes," she said. "In fact, should the opportunity arise then kill the Flame Alchemist as well."

Reed had begun to realize that the woman before him was a cold-blooded murderer.

She continued, "Of course don't make the two deaths look like a coincidence. So it's going to be a bit tricky. But if you can pull it off, then go for it."

"But, I am only to kill them if the attack fails," he said.

"Yeah, but personally I doubt the attack would succeed. However, this is the most successful resistance group the military has faced for some time. Our superiors are hoping that they might just weaken the military," she said. "Do you understand your orders?" she asked.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Good," she said cheerfully, as if they had not just been discussing murder and treason. "I'll contact you in a few days, but if you need to contact me sooner, we will need a signal. Maybe leave a rose in the center town fountain. Then I'll find you."

Then, before Reed could acknowledge what she said. She had slipped further into the alley's shadows and disappeared.

Reed stood there for a few minutes, conflicted. He knew the group well enough. He seriously doubted that they would be able to pull off a raid on Heinsworth. From the sounds of it, the other spy doubted it too. However the situation was a win-win for his country. If the attack succeeds then the military would have to pour resources into maintaining a fight with the Wolves. Even if it failed, they would be able to erase their ties with the group. And if Fullmetal were to be killed, then the group would likely be destroyed.

 _'Do you honestly think you could carry out your orders?'_

Reed shook his head. He felt conflicted. Although he hated to kill, he understood that it was inevitable. He knew that if he failed this mission in any way then his family would be slaughtered. He did not fight so hard just to give up now. If it were a choice between Edward and his family, he would always choose his family.

Reed felt sick. It's for his family. He rationalized. _His family_. When it came to them no morals existed. It was protect or fail, and he knew he would always protect them. He fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist. He would not fail them. He would not allow his family to be killed. Ed was just one person, the death of one person to protect three.

 _'This could be what ends it all'_

Reed felt as if he had been pushed into a lose-lose situation. Follow his orders and he would have to kill again, but if he didn't then his family would be murdered.

Reed tried to reason with himself. He only had to kill if the raid fails. In fact, if the raid succeeds then all his problems would be fixed, right? He wouldn't have to kill anyone. He would still be following orders, so his family would be safe. Plus it would be proof to the Amestrians that his covert skills weren't that great. Everything will be fine.

 _'Do you honestly believe this situation could be salvaged?'_

Reed knew that this was all wishful thinking. He knew that the military would not stand by and let one of their bases get raided. The truth was, either way this went, blood would be spilled. There was no avoiding it. There was just the question of whether he would partake in the violence.

Reed looked up. The sky was dark. If he stayed out any longer, he was going to be missed. Deciding that he will figure out what to do in the morning, he headed back to the inn.

* * *

The rest of the walk back to the inn was uneventful. It was late, so no one was walking the streets.

Reed tried his best to not think. It was late and he hadn't eaten yet, so he shouldn't trust himself to make logical decisions. He ate slowly and alone, it was past midnight by the time he was returning to his room.

However, when he approached his door, he came to a stop. Something felt off. Suddenly wide-awake Reed looked around for something out of place. He noticed that there was light coming in from under his door. Someone was in his room. Instinctively, Reed took out his knife.

Cautiously he entered his room, his hand grasping the weapon. Ready for whatever or whoever had chosen to challenge him this late at night.

However he was met with neither an assassin nor a thief.

Just Edward Elric sitting in the only chair, reading a book.

Surprised, Reed slid his knife back into his pocket and closed the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to ignore a sudden wave of guilt.

"I'm reading a book," Ed said plainly.

"I mean why are you in my room?" Reed clarified. Ed shrugged.

"I couldn't stand Mustang. So I decided to hole up somewhere until he went to sleep. I saw that your light wasn't on and figured you weren't in your room" Ed said.

Reed nodded, "And you didn't go to Hawkeye?"

Ed glared at him in response. Reed took the hint. It was unlikely Hawkeye would put up with Ed and Mustang having a fight.

"Why are you back so late?" Ed asked, changing the subject. Reed shrugged, trying to look calmer than he actually was.

"I was talking to some locals and lost track of time," he said. Ed scoffed, but didn't press the matter further. Reed tried his hardest to forget the meeting he had with the other spy. After all he wasn't sure that he had to kill Ed just yet. Things might still work out. Reed picked up his bag. "Okay, then. I'm just going to take a shower." He said collecting his nightclothes.

"Whatever," Ed said, turning back to his book. "I'll wait another half hour before heading back to my room. That bastard should be asleep by then,"

With a nod, Reed stepped into the small bathroom and locked the door. He took a longer shower than usual. Trying to use the hot water to wash away the stress on his shoulders. He emerged half an hour later, dressed in his nightclothes, and looking forward to a good night's rest. However a quick survey of the room told him he would have to hold off on the latter part.

Ed had fallen asleep, his book lying on the floor.

Reed stared, fully realizing that although Edward was a State Alchemist, a dog of the military. He was still a child. The knowledge that he might have to kill him pried at his mind. Could he really do it? Could he really kill a child? Why was he even having such a problem with this. Until a few days ago Ed had been just another face in the crowd. Reed wouldn't have felt any guilt killing him then.

However, Reed knew that that wasn't true.

He knew more about Edward than he had admitted. The first time he had seen the alchemist he had been stunned at how young he was. He was infuriated that the military would recruit someone so young. Yet he knew he had no right to judge, his own country was guilty of the same thing.

After that, for a good week, he had found out all he could about Edward Elric. He told himself that he was merely curious. That he had already been ordered to investigate every State Alchemist. So he dug deep into the young Elric's life. Not that he could find out that much. He found out that Ed's mother had died. He even found out that Ed had automail. After those discoveries, he just stopped. He had some subconscious feeling that he was intruding into something deeply private.

'He's the same age as my brother', Reed realized.

His sudden realization sent ice through his veins. It was true wasn't it? By now his brother would be 13, and at the mission briefing Mustang had mentioned that Ed was also 13 years old...

He quickly pushed away any subsequent thoughts. His commander always told him that you should never look the enemy in the eye before you kill them. He felt that he now understood.

He sat down on his bed, trying to think clearly.

His family.

If it was a choice between anyone and his family, he would pick his family. Three lives verses one. End of discussion. Reed sighed. Mission or not, he needed to get some sleep. He turned to Ed. It just felt wrong to leave him on the chair all night.

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. Reed forced his tired body to stand, glad for the distraction.

It was Mustang.

"Sir," he said feeling a familiar wave of surprise.

"Lieutenant. Sorry for bothering you, but I saw that your light was on. Have you seen Edward?" Mustang asked. "He hasn't come in yet."

"Oh, he's inside" Reed answered opening the door and allowing Mustang to enter.

"Why did he come here?" Mustang asked slightly confused.

"From the sounds of it he was trying to avoid you," Reed admitted, fatigue making him truthful.

"That sounds about right," Mustang chuckled. He walked over to the sleeping alchemist and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Fulllmetal. Wake up," he said gently.

Ed stirred, but didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Come on, Ed. Wake up," Mustang said.

Ed turned his head away and let out a faint snore. Mustang's features softened.

"He's really asleep, isn't he," Mustang said. He let out a sigh.

Reed watched, stunned, as the Colonel slowly began to lift Edward into his arms, staggering slightly under the weight of the automail. At first it seemed as if Edward would wake up. His face contorted, as if in pain, but he merely shifted into a more comfortable position, his hand subconsciously grasping the Colonel's wrist.

Reed would have never imagined this situation. The Legendary Fullmetal Alchemist asleep in the arms of Colonel Roy Mustang.

"Sorry for disturbing you," Mustang said as he exited the room.

"No problem, sir," Reed said, dazed.

"Good night, Lieutenant," Mustang said.

"Night" Reed responded and closed the door.

For a couple of seconds Reed considered the possibility that the lack of sleep caused him to hallucinate it all. But then he saw Ed's book still lying on the floor, physical proof that he had been in the room. Though the thought of it all was still absurd. From what he could tell in East City the two alchemists hated each other. Yet so far from what Reed had witnessed on the mission Mustang did look out for Ed's wellbeing.

Ed was still a kid after all. Reed couldn't help but feel glad someone was looking out for him.

He cursed himself. He had to stop doing this. Ed was Amestrian, kid or not, he was the enemy, and he must not show compassion to his enemies. If he got attached to Ed, it would only make it harder to kill him.

Once more he tried to reason with himself that he only had to murder Ed if the mission didn't work out. It might not be necessary, things changed all the time in these types of missions, right?

Reed doubted that, but was desperate for any reassurance. So with those thoughts heavy on his mind he fell into a fitful sleep.

 _'What kind of person are you becoming?'_

Reed found that he didn't have the answer.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note:_

 _Normally I am opposed to changing perspective, but I looked it over and I could not find a way to naturally fit in the Parental!RoyEd subplot without it. So I worked it into the plot so that it was more subtle and not that weird._

 _For a little over a week I was on vacation, away from my computer, and unable to write anything at all. However it worked out, I was able to work out the final outline for the next couple of chapters. I was having a little trouble finding exactly when it would be appropriate to place which scene where, but I have it mostly figured out now._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

Someone had egged the construction site. At first, Reed had been both stunned and impressed. Whoever they were they had managed to egg not only the supporting beams, but the beams that would later become the roof. They must have had good aim.

However, the more he began to think about it, the less the situation made sense.

This was clearly a pre-planned attack. The first hint was the amount of eggs they had used. It was simply too much eggs to acquire overnight. The second hint was that they were all rotten. Whoever they were they had taken the time for the eggs to sour before they egged the place.

It was feasible that this was just another act of vandalism, like the ones Mark mentioned. However, Reed knew that egging a station was uncharacteristic of the White Wolves. This only made it more clear that despite the amount of support the White Wolves had in Ukon, for some reason, there weren't any members in town.

Reed felt his heart pound in his chest. He was missing something, something big.

As he got closer to the site he wasn't surprised to hear shouting.

"Are you kidding me? Someone egged the station?! Do you know how long this will take to clean up!" one worker yelled.

"I understand they you are frustrated," Mark said, clearly exasperated, "and I know that this is going to take us a day or two to clean up, but we need to keep working."

"I don't need to keep doing anything!" one worker proclaimed, "I want to go home."

"I have sent in a request for more workers," Mark said, "They will arrive tomorrow, but until then we really need to clean up this mess. So for the next few days all construction work is being suspended until the site has been cleaned."

"I came here to rebuild a station. That's all. I will not get caught up in the military's mess," another worker yelled.

The crowd began to shout in agreement. Mark let out a sigh.

"ALRIGHT BE QUIET!" He hollered. "I will send a message to the government explaining our most recent setback. I will also speak to the mayor and see if they can find out who is the cause for this." Mark took a deep breath and sighed. "Look, I, like you, just want this station to be rebuilt. I am very frustrated at the amount of setbacks we have had. But I know that I will not be deterred by a foolish prank." He gestured to the egged site. "So I am urging you, please, don't let something as silly as this discourage you. You guys are the heart of this project. I cannot do this on my own. So please, would you help me out?"

Mark's little speech seemed to do the trick. Slowly the workers began to calm down and a few murmured in agreement.

"Good," Mark said, "there are some buckets and a faucet nearby the shed. I believe there might be some soap as well. Let's get to work."

Reed would have to admit that after that morning everyone seemed to liven up a bit. As much as he wanted to believe that it was because of Mark's speech, he knew it was mainly Mustang's fault.

They had been in Ukon for less than 24 hours and Reed was certain that if the resistance group didn't get to them first Mustang and Ed were going to strangle each other. Neither party had seemed to acknowledge what happened the night before. Instead Mustang was taking advantage of the fact that Ed wasn't allowed to use his alchemy. This meant that he took every single opportunity to point out his height. Every. Single. One.

Soon the other workers began picking it up and before long it was a running gag.

Naturally this meant that Ed retaliated. Just 15 minutes ago Reed had witness Ed "accidentally" hit Mustang in the shin with a bucket. He claimed he wasn't paying attention, but Reed knew better.

At lunch things hit a climax when Ed stole Mustang's bread roll. It looked as if the two alchemists would have begun a screaming match when they suddenly stopped. However, Reed had been watching and when he saw Hawkeye brush past them, he swore that he saw her covertly press her gun to Mustang's back.

Lunch was nice and quiet after that.

* * *

As covert missions went, gathering intel was a slow process. Reed kept an eye out for an opportunity to speak to Mark again. He found it weird that even with Mark keeping watch over the site, someone had managed to egg it.

Unless Mark had been lying.

However Reed guessed that it must be something else. Why would a man who seemed to be trying so hard to keep this project going, jeopardize it's completion. It didn't make sense.

It was in the evening when Reed found an opportunity.

Egg had dripped into one of the machines that Reed didn't know the name of. He and another worker had to dismantle the entire thing and scrub the egg out. Reed found himself with a soapy bucket full of metal parts, slowly cleaning off each piece. The other worker had stepped away for a moment to get another bucket. Out of the corner of his eye, Reed saw Mark walking past.

Thinking quickly, Reed let the bucket fall onto his foot. The bucket was half full of metal and water, so it must have weighed a lot. However they wore thick shoes, so it didn't hurt that much.

The bucket fell over with a clank, spilling water across the floor.

Reed jumped back in feigned surprise. He rubbed his foot.

"Here," a voice said.

Reed looked over to see Mark handing him a rag. Reed stooped down to wipe up the water.

"Sorry about that. The bucket just slipped from my hands," Reed said, holding up his hands, slippery from the soap.

"No problem," Mark said. "It could happen to anyone." He then leaned down to help Reed pick up the parts. By luck one screw had fallen in the gap between the boards and Mark was struggling to pick it back up.

"Let me try," Reed said. Mark moved aside. Reed put his arm into the gap reaching down far, before coming back, screw in hand.

"Long arm," Mark said, amused.

"Yeah," Reed replied. He wiped his brow, surveying the site. "This is going to take a while to clean up," he said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, it's going to take us at least two days to get back on track," Mark said.

Reed started washing off a gear, trying to find the best way to phrase his next question.

"So about preventing the vandalism..." he said, trailing off and giving Mark a chance to explain himself.

"Yeah, I bet I better explain. You know, after I said I was staying after to prevent it and all," Mark said.

"So what happened?" Reed asked.

"I did keep watch over the site," Mark admitted, "then at about 3 in the morning these kids walk up with this wagon full of eggs."

"Kids?" Reed said, perplexed.

"Yup. To be honest I fell asleep and didn't notice them until they had started egging the site. I told them to stop of course, but they were fearless. One of the older ones, teenager by the looks of it, threatened me with a shovel. Now as much as I want this project to succeed, I was not about to get into a fight with a teenager. Some of the kids were really young, I wasn't about to fight them either. I figured it would be better to go the diplomatic route and bring it up with the town's government," Mark said, "They haven't done anything in the past to stop the vandalism, but I think they'll intervene if it looks as if the military might get involved."

Reed was slightly taken aback by the simplicity and logic of Mark's decision. Mark would have had to fight the kids to stop them from egging the station. So he chose to do nothing, something which jeopardized his relationship with the construction workers as well as the project's success. However by doing so, he opened up a different opportunity. If it seemed that the vandalism would get the military involved, there was a good chance the town's government would put a stop to it. Then there would be no more setbacks.

"Yeah, that makes sense," he said.

"Well, time to get back to work," Mark said, standing and brushing the dust off his clothes.

Reed went back to washing off the egg.

Mark had been unwilling to fight a child. Instead he picked a safer, but harder alternative.

Interesting.

* * *

After a long day, Reed was walking back to the inn. He was tired and wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings. He rounded a corner and promptly bumped into someone.

"Sorry about that," the person said, continuing to walk past him.

Reed tried to get a glimpse of them, but they had turned the corner and disappeared. He stood there for a second, stunned. It wasn't the collision that displaced him. It was the fact that at the point of impact, the other person had slipped a piece of paper into his hand.

The paper was still there, clenched inside his fist. After a few moments, he forced himself to continue walking. Could it be a message from the other spy? Did she have new orders for him? Or was it a message from the White Wolves themselves? Had someone recognized him?

Reed made sure to read the message as soon as he was safely back in his room. It ended up not being from the spy or any member of the White Wolves. The note itself was more unsettling. Reed read it once more. It had been written in a hasty scrawl.

 _New developments. Meeting in my room at midnight._

 _-RM_

* * *

\- two hours earlier -

Ed remembered that when he was a kid, sometimes he would fall asleep on the couch. Only by morning to find that he had been magically transported to his bed.

Then his mother died.

After that, whenever he fell asleep on the couch, he would wake up having not moved anywhere.

But not last night.

For some stupid reason he had let himself fall asleep in Reed's room. And for some equally stupid reason he had woken up down the hall and back in his own bed. Ed knew that it must have been Mustang. Even if Reed had carried him to his room (which he doubted) he didn't have the key to the door. Ed swore if Mustang ever held this against him, he would tell Breda who really discovered his cookie stash.

Though that Bastard hadn't said a word about it. He had simply carried on as if nothing had happened, simply teasing him more than usual. Ed knew he could never confront Mustang about it. That would involve acknowledging that the incident had happened, and he couldn't do that either.

Mustang had came up with excuses for why he was on the mission, but Ed knew better. Deny it all he wanted, Ed knew the reason why Mustang was really on this mission. And it pissed him off. He wasn't a child. He wasn't defenseless. His run in with the White Wolves had been a slip up. His injuries were pretty much healed. Sure his ribs still hurt like hell, but the doctor said that that was normal. He was fine. He didn't need Mustang's pity.

So the first chance he got, he went to clear his mind. He was taking a long walk through the town. Keeping his eyes on the ground before him and not really paying attention to where he was going. He kept to the shadows, trying to avoid the sun. Although he was never a complainer, his automail never reacted well with heat. The fact that he had to wear his hair up in a hat wasn't helping him cool down either. He started to wonder if he had enough time to run back to the inn for a quick bath, when he heard someone call out to him.

"Hey you!" they said.

Ed looked around for anyone nearby, but he didn't see anyone around.

"Be quiet!" someone said quietly to Ed's right.

Ed looked closer. There was a small alley to his right. He hadn't noticed it at first. There seemed to be a few kids calling him.

"Yeah, you," the first speaker said, when they made eye contact. "Come over here."

Ed knew that this situation was very sketchy. But honestly, what was the worst that could happen? It was just a group of kids. Even if they attacked him, Ed knew he could fight them off. So he turned and walked closer to the group.

The first speaker was a tall boy who seemed to be a few years older than Ed. The other one was a girl around Ed's age. Ed noted that she had light brown hair knotted into a bun. There seemed to be a few other kids hiding deeper within the alley.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You are with the construction workers, right?" the older boy asked, ignoring Ed's question.

"Yeah," Ed replied.

"No! Stop it," the girl whispered harshly to the boy, "they told us not to,"

"Be quiet, I got this," the boy told her. He turned back to Ed, "The man you are with. Is he like your uncle or something?"

Ed was taken aback. They were asking him about Mustang?

"No, I'm just his apprentice," Ed clarified. The statement felt weird to say. As if Mustang ever taught him anything useful.

The boy smiled. "Well you don't seem to like him a lot," he said.

"You were watching me?" Ed asked. What was going on?

"Yeah." The boy leaned back against the wall. "We've been watching you for a while," he said, as if that made him badass.

"What do you want from me?" Ed asked.

"Follow us and we'll tell you," he said.

Now the situation was extremely sketchy. Though Ed still did as they said. It was just a group of kids. He knew for a fact that he could fight them. They led him deeper into the alley until they reached a dead end. The exit was blocked off by a fence.

When Ed turned around, he found that he was surrounded. There were now about 20 kids, ages raging from around 9 to 16. Ed looked at the boy in front of him. He seemed to be the oldest.

"Sorry, we had to lure you here, but we didn't want to take any chances," the boy said.

"What do you want?" Ed asked, scanning the kids. A lot of them looked uneasy. Ed knew if he suddenly charged them, they would probably move out of the way.

"Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you," the boy said. Ed wasn't concerned. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, a measly band of kids wouldn't be able to hurt him. "We think you might be a valuable asset," the boy said.

"What do you mean?" Ed asked.

"I guess we should explain ourselves," The boy said confidently, "We are the one's who vandalized the station."

Ed narrowed his eyes. A band of kids egging the station, that didn't seem very impressive. Ed guessed that the boy noticed his lack of surprise.

"Last night wasn't the only time we vandalized it. Every setback you guys have experienced. We were responsible for it," The boy said brashly.

Ed was confused, but not in what the boy said. He knew that the White Wolves were a very formidable group. He had experienced that first hand. However, why were a group of kids the ones vandalizing the station? Could it be possible that the kids were just taking advantage of the situation and acting on their own?

"Are you guys part of the White Wolves?" Ed asked, sounding more stunned than he really was. He dealt with many thugs in the past. Usually if you make them feel in control, they get arrogant and talk more.

The kids snickered. "Yeah, we support them. And for that they gave us a mission," the boy said.

Now Ed was interested. These kids have ties with the White Wolves. So what did they want with him?

"So, do you want to help us?" the boy asked.

Ed thought I over. Really the answer was obvious. If he said no, there was no way they were letting him go. Even if he could get away, they would likely tell the resistance group about him and have them deal with him. Ed shuddered slightly. However if he said yes, he would get closer to the group. Wasn't the point of finding out who vandalized the station anyway to backtrack and find members of the White Wolves?

"Why not?" Ed answered.

* * *

Reed had been meaning to sleep as much as he could before heading to the meeting, but he had been unable to close his eyes for long. So he stared at the ceiling, wondering what in the world he was going to do.

Spending the day cleaning a hot sulfurous constructions site was enough to keep his mind occupied.

 _'Those kids just had to pick egg. Of all things: egg. They couldn't have gone with paint. Paint is easier to apply, generally cheaper, and if those kids had vandalized it with paint then they wouldn't have to clean it up. They could just keep building and no one would know, but no they chose egg. Rotten egg. Rotten egg smells really bad'_

However, now that he was alone all those petty thoughts had ceased. Leaving him with less egg problems and more covert spy issues.

His orders were that if the raid on Heinsworth failed, he was to kill the Fullmetal Alchemist. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he became conflicted. He couldn't deny the strategics of Ed's death. It was a brilliant plan.

But even though, Ed was a State Alchemist, but he was still a kid. He had only been in the military for under a year. Strategic plan or not, killing Ed was morally wrong.

But then again, so was betraying his country and getting his family killed.

Which was why Reed was stuck.

His country wasn't the type to give empty threats. He knew what happened to spies who their disobeyed orders. While he was the White Wolves' contact some spy had stepped out of line. Within a week his commander had come all the way to Amestris, dragging the spy's girlfriend in tow. Reed saw them board a train heading for South City. A week later, his commander returned, with visible bloodstains on his clothes. Reed never saw the girl again.

He just had to follow his orders. There was no other option.

He hated how little control he had of this situation. He could try to sabotage the entire operation, but that was extremely risky and a very stupid thing to do.

He didn't like how easily things could change, leaving him without footing. It made him extremely uneasy. Tomorrow, the military could suddenly decide to come down and oversee construction of the station or the White Wolves could suddenly decide to attack some other base. Heck, in the next few hours everything could change.

Reed had no clue what the meeting was about. He silently wished that he still had the note, so that he could read it once more and be sure of his orders. However, he had destroyed it after he had it memorized. Less evidence that way.

In the note "RM" most likely referred to Roy Mustang. Reed wondered what new developments have occurred. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Trying to occupy his racing mind, Reed picked up the book sitting on his nightstand. He brought out a flashlight so that he could see it clearly. The book in his hands wasn't the one he had on the train.

It was the one Ed had left in his room.

It was a book on alchemy, mainly centralized on elements and their different alchemic properties. There were bookmarks at important passages and notes written in the margin. Alchemy wasn't popular in Reed's country so he simply flipped through the book, amazed at how much Edward had analyzed it. They weren't kidding when they said the kid was a prodigy.

Reed was suddenly struck with a wave of emotion.

He closed the book and put it on the nightstand. He had to stop doing things like this. It was just foolish to get attached to Ed. Foolish to think about what kind of person he was or find out his hobbies. The more he knew about Edward, the harder it would be to kill him. He had to stop thinking.

 _'Ignoring the problem won't fix it'_

Reed sighed.

* * *

Once the clock hit 11:59, Reed got out of bed and went down the hall to Mustang's room. From the hallway, he could see light coming in from under the door. Upon entering, Reed found that he was the last to arrive. He took a quick scan of the room. No one seemed to be injured. Mustang was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, facing the other, Hawkeye was sitting next to him. Ed was on the other bed, leaning backwards against the pillows.

Reed flicked off the light.

"Why did you do that?" Mustang said, squinting in the dark.

"You can see the light from the hallway," Reed explained.

"Well, now we can't see," Ed said, obviously annoyed.

"Be quiet, Fullmetal," Mustang said.

Reed heard someone stand, then what sounded like a drawer opening and closing, and finally some shuffling followed by a snap.

Reed blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the new light.

Mustang had put on one of his gloves. He held a small flame in his hand, using a continuous transmutation to keep it going. The flame lit up the room just enough to allow them to see each other and converse comfortably, though it was dim enough to not be seen from the hall.

"Show off," Ed said.

Reed walked over and forced himself to sit down next to Edward. He tried his best to avoid looking at him.

"Fullmetal, why don't you tell everyone else what happened," Mustang said.

Ed grimaced, "Honestly, Mustang, I think you're overreacting. It wasn't a big deal." Ed turned to face them. "This evening I was walking through the town and a group of kids called me over. They claimed that they were connected to the White Wolves and that they were the one's who vandalized the site. Then they said that they wanted my help with something. That's all."

"And did you agree to help them?" Mustang asked.

"They had me surrounded, of course I said yes," he said. In the dim light Reed noticed a flash of anger cross Mustang's face. Ed must have noticed too, because he retorted, "Well, what would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have gotten surrounded in the first place," Mustang said.

"I was investigating," Edward spat.

"You were being foolish," Mustang hissed, the flame in his hand blazing.

"That's enough," Hawkeye said, silencing them both, "we don't even know if the kids were the ones who vandalized the station."

"Actually," Reed said. "I spoke to Mark today. Last night he was at the construction site. He said that he saw a group of kids egg it."

"Did he do anything about it?" Mustang asked.

"He said that he was going to bring it up with the town's government," Reed said, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

"Edward," Hawkeye said, turning toward him. "What did the kids want your help with?"

"They mainly wanted information: when the site was being completed, who is in charge of the project. That kind of stuff," Ed tilted his head. "Although, they did ask me if I saw any military officers on the train ride here."

"What did you say?" Mustang asked.

"I said that I slept most of the time and didn't notice anything," Ed said.

"Did you tell them anything about the construction site?" Mustang asked.

"No, just that we were working on the framework, but you can tell that by just looking at it," Ed said.

"Did you notice anything about the kids?" Reed asked. "Anything useful?"

"Their leader seemed pretty confident. He was the oldest, maybe 16, give or take. However, everyone else seemed really uneasy. Especially this one girl who was about my age. She kept telling the leader to stop talking to me," Ed said.

"So they are amateurs," Mustang said.

"Gee Colonel, what gave that away," Ed said sarcastically.

Mustang gritted his teeth, "I'm just wondering why the White Wolves would have children running their errands."

 _'Maybe it's because there aren't any White Wolves in town'_

"Yes, that is strange." Hawkeye said. "But it might be for various reasons. Maybe they know that the vandalizers might get caught and don't want to sacrifice their own members. Maybe they expect the kids to be overlooked. The thing is we can speculate, but in the end, we don't know."

"I can try to find out more from their leader," Ed offered. Mustang looked back at him.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"I mean that I'll get close to the group and see what I can find out," Ed said.

"You are not getting close to this group." the Colonel said.

"Why not?" Ed argued.

"Do I have to list the reasons?" Mustang hissed, "To start with you have never done intelligence work before. You are irresponsible. You are stubborn and-"

"Quit treating me like I'm a child!" Ed yelled

"You are a child!" Mustang retorted.

"Colonel," Hawkeye said, her stern voice silencing both alchemists. "Please keep in mind that this is only lead we have."

"And if they are truly amateurs they might easily let something slip," Reed said. Personally he didn't like the idea. It increased the chances that the raid on Heinsworth would be unsuccessful. However it was the only lead this mission had, it would be suspicious to not support it.

 _'Then why is Mustang opposed to it'_

Reed slowly blinked his eyes and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. He didn't have time to speculate about trivial things.

The Colonel appeared to be considering what they said. After a few moments he sighed and looked up.

"Fine," Mustang said. "But I don't like it."

"You don't like anything that isn't in a miniskirt," Ed retorted.

Mustang ignored that comment and instead turned to Hawkeye.

"Have you been able to complete your analysis of the town?" he asked.

"I'm about halfway done," Hawkeye said. "From my basic surveys everything seems normal. I found a few abandoned and unused buildings and was able to scope out a few, nothing unusual. If there are hidden weapons storages, they must be keeping them somewhere well hidden."

"Okay, keep an eye out and tell me if you notice anything," Mustang said. "Reed, what is your impression of Mark?"

"He seems determined and hardworking. It seems as if he is trying his hardest to get the project going. I honestly doubt he has any connections with the White Wolves," Reed said.

"Has he said anything useful?" Mustang asked.

Reed thought back, "he said that the townspeople have been relatively nice to the construction workers. Though he did imply that most of the town opposes the military. He seems to believe that if the military sends soldiers to Ukon, it will end in bloodshed,"

Mustang seemed to think about that for a moment.

"So this town definitely has strong support and connections to the White Wolves," Mustang said. "But then why would children be the ones vandalizing the site?"

"Who knows," Ed said. "Anyway, since we got here I haven't noticed any evidence of alchemy."

"Me neither," Mustang said. "But I suspect they used it to destroy the station."

"I think so too. Alchemy is strong enough to do something of that magnitude. Plus, they already used it to destroy the tracks, so it makes sense," Ed said.

Reed stayed quiet and let them draw their own wrong conclusions. He knew that the station was destroyed with a bomb, but he had no way to prove it.

 _'not without dying that is'_

Mustang continued on, "Alright. Hawkeye, I want you to finish your analysis of the town. Report back to me once you are done. Edward, wait for the kids to contact you again. Try to find out where their orders come from, but don't get too close. Reed I want you to get close to the townspeople. Try to find out who supports the White Wolves. I will try talking to the construction workers to see if they know anything important."

Mustang went on to say something about reporting their findings to Heinsworth, but by then Reed had tuned him out.

While Mustang was speaking, Reed had been struck with an idea. If Ed got closer to the kids, it would only make it easier to kill him.

Reed could simply attack him in an alley. And when Ed's body was found, everyone would assume that the White Wolves discovered that he was military. The resistance group would take the blame and Reed would be free.

However something about the sentence: it would be easier to him to kill Ed. Made Reed extremely uneasy.

It wasn't the morals. He still felt as conflicted as before.

It was something else.

And he just couldn't put his finger on it.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Just a fun fact. In my early drafts Mark's name was "Ted" because it was similar to "Teddy Bear" and I thought it fit Mark's personality. However, I had to change it, because I realized how close it was to Ed's name._


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note:_

 _This was originally going to be a short bit on the end of Chapter four, but as I was writing the draft, it grew longer and longer until it was apparent that it was going to have to be it's own chapter._ _This chapter was extremely hard to write, for various reasons. The end scene is quite crucial, but it took a long time to make the conversation feel natural._

 _My main problem with writing Reed, is, well, he is a male 25ish year old spy and I am a female high schooler. So sometimes it's hard to gauge how he would respond to some situations._

 _Just as a warning, this chapter does have violence in it, specifically murder. I didn't describe explicit details and left many things_ _vague, but this is a warning just in case._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

That same night Reed dreamt of the forest.

This forest was very much unlike the one he grew up in. It was full of green trees, thick foliage, and the sun beamed overhead. He often found himself missing the snow and howling winds.

When he first arrived, he had despised the change in temperature. The days were too hot. The nights not cold enough. He seemed to sweat through his shirt everyday. However after three years in this country, he had grown to tolerate it.

He was enjoying one of his most favorite pastimes. Hunched over in the undergrowth beside the windy old tree, he was waiting for the train to pass by. It was such a simple thing, but it was the only piece of the outside world he could get. The Wolves were convinced that he would betray them. They limited his contact with outsiders and never allowed him to leave the forest. Once, he climbed to the top of a tree and was able to view the town of Ukon in the distance. Sure he ended up falling and spraining his wrist, but it was worth it.

When he had first been assigned as the White Wolves contact, he had been joyful. His commander had claimed that being the White Wolves's contact was extremely important. It was the backbone of Operation Dagger. Once every three months, his commander came to Amestris bringing in news and sometimes new spies. The contact acted as a sort of liaison.

However whenever the commander wasn't in Amestris, the contact was pretty much a hostage.

One would expect life in a resistance group's camp to be more exciting. However the Wolves never included him in their discussions or plans. They refused to rely on him for anything. Sometimes, when no one wanted to, they made him fetch the water. But most of the time, they were too paranoid that he might poison them. They didn't even let him hunt. Once he had taken down a deer with only a wooden spear. After everyone had gorged themselves, they yelled at him for making a weapon. So he spent most days taking long walks in the forest or eavesdropping on conversations.

He hadn't found out anything that important though. He knew the Wolves operated in cells. He knew that the cells had limited contact with each other. However he had no clue what each cell did. He wasn't even sure what the main cell did and he lived in their camp. The most important thing he could find out was the The Shadow Alchemist had faked his death to join this group and was running operations somewhere south. That was all.

Suddenly, he heard leaves rustling behind him.

He froze and cast a wary look over his shoulder. Wondering who might be creeping up on him. He caught sight of them through the brush and promptly rolled his eyes.

"Thought you could sneak up on me, didn't you?" he said.

He looked at the woman hiding in the undergrowth. She stood up to face him. She was relatively young with wavy dark brown hair. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and smiled as she approached him.

"I thought I might as well try," she said. "Come on, the leader wants to speak to you,"

"Someone wants to see me? I must be hallucinating," He said. The woman laughed.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked.

"No, you have a visitor actually," she said.

"Visitor?" the contact asked. No one was supposed to know he was here. Had something happened?

"You heard me," she said. "Now hurry up, we don't want to make the boss angry,"

The contact got to his feet and began to follow the woman down the path.

"And how did the camp react to my visitor?" he asked.

The woman shrugged, "It set them on edge. They think you might have betrayed them,"

"Viera," he said. "They always think I might betray them,"

"Yeah, but right now it's actually a reasonable conclusion," she said.

He scoffed, "Well, if they were so worried about me, why only send one person to collect me?"

Viera smiled devilishly at him and opened up her bag.

"Really, now," he said, speaking sarcastically, "After so many years of getting to know each other you're going to blow me up now?"

She rolled her eyes, zipping up her bag to cover up the bomb.

"It was just a precaution. The others put me up to it," she admitted.

He nodded, understanding. Although Viera was the closest thing he had to a friend, she was still a member of the White Wolves. She still had to follow their orders. Though he didn't mind. He was so desperate for companionship he would befriend a tree. Who cares it that tree also happened to be a bombs expert.

"So, how did you make sure the bomb wouldn't go off prematurely?" he asked.

She shrugged, "I put a sticky adhesive to the back of it so that it will attach itself to most cloth. It's a small bomb, small range. If it detonated, it would only damage things within a 8 feet (2.4 meters) radius, give or take. I have a remote detonator so that I could get out of range in time,"

"You know, you can be really terrifying at times," He said, shaking his head.

"Well, foreign spy," she teased, "I am flattered,"

They took the short way back to camp, trampling through the undergrowth. He scanned his eyes through the green trees looking for any lingering threats. He spotted something.

"Look over there," he said, under his breath.

Viera froze and looked back at him. "What is it?" She said, reaching for her bag.

"Over there, in between those two trees," he said, pointing.

"I don't see anything," she said.

"Look harder," he said.

Viera squinted her eyes, trying to glimpse something far in the distance. Slowly she began to see a patch of brown fur peak out from behind a tree.

"A deer?" she asked. "How could you have possibly seen that?"

"I told you my father was a fur trader. I have an eye for these sort of things," he said.

Viera pursed her lips. "Such a shame," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's a shame that we can't hunt it, not that either of us can make the shot anyway," she said.

The contact squinted his eyes. The deer was at least 250 feet (76.2 meters) away. On top of that they could only see a sliver of it's body. It would be a tricky shot, but not impossible.

"I bet I can make the shot," he said.

Viera shook her head. "No you can't,"

"Have you ever hunted bears in a snowstorm? Because I have, believe me, I can make this shot," he said.

"Okay, then," Viera said, reaching for her gun. "Do it. But after you shoot, don't come crying to me if half the camp comes charging in here expecting an enemy attack,"

The contact looked down. "Maybe we should just get to camp,"

They continued up the path.

They arrived in the camp and entered the central tent. It looked as if everyone in camp had come to see what was going on. The leader of the White Wolves was at the front, his second in command to his right. They appeared to be arguing over something. Viera pushed him forward, bringing him to the front of the crowd.

"I got him," she called to the leader, when they had arrived at the front.

The contact looked around and found what had caused all the commotion. There was a woman seated in a chair. Her hands were bound and she wore expression of distaste, as if she was merely annoyed with the situation.

"Alright," the leader of the White Wolves hollered "Everyone out!" He pulled Viera and the second and command aside. "Make sure no one overhears,"

A few people gave him dirty looks, but he ignored them. The tent emptied until the only ones left were the leader, the contact, and the mysterious woman.

The leader waited a few moments before speaking, "This woman, came into Ukon this morning. She met up with a member in the town and requested to be brought here. She said that she needed to speak with the White Wolves contact," the older man glared at him. "Do you know anything about this?"

He could practically feel the apprehension in the leader's voice. He understood though. Besides the once every three month meetings no one was supposed to contact him. This was a serious breach in protocol and security. If he were in the leader's place, he would be worried too.

"No," he said truthfully. He took a step closer to the woman. And when the leader didn't object, he leaned down close to whisper in her ear.

"It's a beautiful day," he said.

"Yes, but a bit chilly," she said, a bit relieved.

"You like the cold?" he asked.

"It reminds me of home," she said.

He turned to face the leader.

"It's okay, she's part of Operation Dagger," he said.

The leader scoffed turned to the woman, still unconvinced.

"Tell me," he said, switching his gun from hand to hand. "Which country is in charge of Operation Dagger?"

The woman stared him in the eye. "Drachma," she answered bluntly.

He narrowed his eyes, "I bet you could find that out from anywhere," he leaned close to her, "But here is something only Dagger Operatives and I know, why is Drachma allied with the White Wolves?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead she glared at the contact, as if to ask if this guy was serious. The contact simply shrugged. It wasn't like he had any weight in these situations.

She rolled her eyes, "The White Wolves operate in northeast Amesris, mostly along the border. The Amestrian border with the desert is the easiest spot for Drachman spies to sneak into your country. As the White Wolves are a resistance group, Operation Dagger formed an agreement with you. You overlook the spies coming into Amestris and we provide you with intelligence which will help your cause,"

The leader nodded, "Alright, so you're a spy,"

"That's what I told you," the contact said, annoyed. Seriously, no one ever believed a word he said.

The leader ignored him. "Why are you here?"

The woman looked at him, "Well if you would untie me, I would take out the papers and show you,"

The leader was silent for a moment, before taking out a knife from his pocket and slicing through the ropes binding her wrists.

"Just know that if I don't walk out of here, my men will kill you. Both of you," he warned. He took a few steps back and seated himself on a chair. Far enough to give them some privacy, but not quite out of earshot.

The White Wolves's contact rolled his eyes. He turned to the woman, "Now tell me why you are here,"

She took out a small file from inside her jacket and passed a picture to him.

"You have a new assignment," she said.

He looked at the picture, confused. It was a small photograph, similar to the ones used by banks and governments for identification. The man in the photo seemed to be wearing an Amestrian soldier's uniform, but that wasn't what worried him.

What worried him was how similar the man's face was to his own.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Your new assignment," she said, gesturing to the picture. "That is Lieutenant Logan Reed. You are going to become him,"

His eyes flicked up and he stared at her.

Becoming an Amestrian soldier?

That was almost unheard of in Operation Dagger. Extremely rare. Sometimes spies would enlist to the army and serve on the front lines, but to hold a rank of _Lieutenant_.

He held the picture up, "Does this person actually exist?" he asked.

"For now," she said. "but you are going to replace him,"

He narrowed his eyes. A full replacement. That required a ton of variables to line up. Firstly, they needed a soldier who looked like the spy, which was hard enough. Then they needed the soldier two have no friends or family or anyone who would recognize the switch. Then they needed to cross their fingers and hope that the spy didn't blow their cover. Again, extremely rare.

"How can we be sure that nobody will recognize the switch?" he asked.

The woman shrugged, "We won't know for sure until we actually do it, but this one has a very high chance of succeeding. Logan Reed is transferring from West City to East City in a few days, so no one in East City should notice,"

"And family?" he asked.

"They have been taken care of," she said plainly.

The leader behind him scoffed loudly.

"Hey! You are a leader of a resistance group. Don't judge us," she said.

"Yeah, but we don't kill people just so that we can find out a little more information," he retorted.

The contact tried to ignore him.

"When do we leave?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Logan Reed plans to arrive in East City the day after tomorrow. We'll have to hurry," she said.

The leader laughed again and stood up.

"Well then, _Logan Reed_ , best to pack your bag and get out of here," he mocked.

Reed tried to ignore him. "Where are we doing the switch?" he asked.

The woman looked at him.

"Parktown" she answered.

* * *

In just two hours, Reed found himself sitting in the dusty cargo hold of a train. His handler wanted to get moving as fast as possible. She had only given him 10 minutes to pack his things. Not that he minded. He was glad to leave that stuffy forest. For the most part.

Viera had stopped by his tent while he was packing. He heard her enter, but couldn't get himself to look up.

"So you are really leaving aren't you?" she said.

"Yeah," Reed said.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Reed was silent for a moment.

"I cannot tell you," he said.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Viera nod.

"Well, anyway, if you ever need help, feel free to swing by," Viera said.

Reed fell silent once more.

"Viera, I don't think I will ever come back here," he admitted.

"I know," Viera said. "But you can never be so sure. There is a bar in Ukon called the 'Shrunken Tavern' or something. We always have a member stationed there. Ask for a Gin Fizz on the rocks. They'll understand,"

Reed couldn't help it, he chuckled.

"I'll miss you," he said, not comprehending what he had said until it had left his lips; though knowing that he meant it all the same.

"You better," Viera said.

And then she was gone.

Reed closed his eyes, trying to savor that memory. Viera had been his friend. He would truly miss her.

A sharp prod at his skull jolted him back to reality.

"Hey, be careful with that thing," he hissed at his handler. "You don't want to hurt me more than you already did,"

"Well," his handler said. "It was your fault for being a slow runner,"

"Sorry, if I didn't expect to literally jump onto a moving train," Reed said, rubbing his bruised shin. "Wouldn't it have been easier to have just boarded the train in Ukon?"

"No," his handler said. "You can't be seen until we make the switch," she said. She cut off another long strand of hair and cursed, "Did you ever cut your hair?"

"No," he said. "The Wolves never gave me anything sharp,"

He never got the opportunity to cut his hair. And after three years, it had grown quite long. He had to cut it if he was going to assume a military persona.

"We should be reviewing more military regulations," she said.

"Enough with those regulations," Reed whined.

"Well, you have to have them memorized by the time you arrive in East City or else you're going to lose your cover," she said, snipping off another clump of hair.

"Can we take a break for just a few minutes?" Reed said. "My head hurts,"

His handler scoffed, but didn't say anything.

"So how did you find this Logan Reed?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"We have an operative working in West City," she answered.

He glared at her.

"Alright, we have an operative who works as a janitor in West City's archives. He keeps an eye out for officers who we might be able to switch,"

Reed nodded. "So like, is there a big file with all of our operatives photos or something," he asked, because if so, it didn't sound very secure.

"No, we usually plan and look for these things ahead of time. We take an operative who we want to switch out and tell other operatives to keep a look out. When we find a match, if we find a match, we switch them." she said.

"So then what are you? Like the one looking for the operatives or something?"

"No, I'm the handler for every operative in East City," she said.

"How many operative are there in East City," he asked.

"For the safety of our operation I cannot tell you that," she said.

He shrugged "A lot or a little,"

"Little," she said. "Turn your head,"

They were silent for a bit.

"So what is going to happen when we reach Parktown?" he asked.

The handler paused for a second.

"In Amestris, when people travel across the country, they usually try to bypass Central, too busy, too many trains, too many people. Lieutenant Reed seems to be no different. Tomorrow morning he will arrive in Parktown where he will stay for one day before continuing to East City. We plan to do the switch right after he arrives in Parktown. Then you simply check into his hotel reservation. We'll go over his things to see if we missed anything. Then you'll proceed to East City," she said.

Reed nodded, thinking over the details. That all sounded pretty good, except...

"But I thought Parktown was right before East City? Why would Logan Reed stop there for a day?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "But that's what he told the moving company, so we're going with that,"

"You can't deny that it's strange," he said.

"Well you better get used to it," his handler said. She snipped off a final clump before looking at him, content.

"What do you think?" she asked, handing him a mirror.

Reed took it and looked at his reflection.

"Pretty good," he said. The face in the mirror was now extremely similar to the one in the photo.

"Okay then, hand me your bag," she said.

"Why?" Reed asked, but handed it to her anyway.

"I need to make sure you don't have anything on you that will give you away," she explained.

Reed watched as she rummaged through his stuff. She pulled his clothes out of the bag.

"These are too worn in," she said. "Throw them away when you can,"

"What's wrong with them?" Reed asked.

"You are assuming someone's identity, that means looking like them, dressing like them, behaving like them. You won't need these clothes," she said.

Reed scrunches his face, slightly disgusted.

His handler continued on. She pulled out a book, flipping through it.

"This book is clearly Drachman, we'll have to burn it," she said. Reed grimaced, it took months to save up for that book.

His handler pulled out a some pens and paper.

"I think these should pass." She flipped the bag upside down. "Got anything else on you?"

"No," Reed lied. He must've been caught off guard, because she looked him in the eye.

"Show me," she said.

Reed hesitated for a moment before holding out his wrist, displaying his the bracelet. She wouldn't make him leave it behind, would she?

"My sister gave it to me before I left," he said quietly.

His handler looked at him. For a split second her eyes softened.

"That should be fine," she said. "Just don't flaunt it or anything,"

Reed smiled, "Thank you"

"Whatever," she said. "Now let's review your background. Where were you born?"

Reed groaned.

* * *

They arrived in Parktown before dawn. It was still fairly dark out so no one got a good look at them as they walked out of the station. Not that Reed was paying attention. The initial shock of his mission was starting to wear off, leaving him with more worries than he was comfortable with. One particular one was weighing on his mind.

"Hey," he said, when they were taking a shortcut down a dark alley. "Exactly, _how_ is the switch going to happen?"

His handler must have noticed his tone and guessed his real question: how are we going to commit the murder?

She took a breath. "When Logan," She paused, making an effort to not use his name. "When your alias's train arrives I will lure him to a van that another operative has prepared. We'll need to ask him a few questions first, see if we can get any more information from him. Then the switch will happen. After it is over I will dispose of the evidence while you check into the hotel. I will find you afterward."

Reed looked down at his shoes, grateful that his handler used euphemisms.

"However we are the only two operatives in Parktown. I will need your help to restrain him in the van," she said.

Reed nodded and they continued walking.

At 8 o'clock the real Lieutenant Logan Reed arrived in Parktown.

They were ready for him.

Reed watched from behind a pillar as his handler went up to talk to Logan.

Spies had to be good at lying. She was no doubt coming up with some story to get him to follow her. Maybe she had lost her cat or her purse had gotten stolen. Whatever it was it worked and they were able to lure Logan Reed into the alley. A chloroform rag did the rest.

They dragged his unconscious body into the van and promptly drove it to a new location.

* * *

When Logan Reed came to, he found that he was tied up in the back of a van. There were two captors; both wore masks covering half their faces. There were ropes binding his wrists and ankles as well as a gag in his mouth. He struggled against them, attempting to break free.

The woman who lured him into the alley approached him. She had a dagger in her hand. She leaned forward and pulled the gag from his mouth.

"Who are you people?" Logan Reed demanded. "What do you want?"

"Your name is Lieutenant Logan Reed. You are transferring from West to East City, correct?" the woman asked.

Logan stared at her for a second, stunned. Just who were these people?

"What do you want from me?" he asked. He struggled against the ropes again. These couldn't be random criminals: the van, the masks, knowing his identity; this was planned out.

"Why are you in Parktown?" the woman asked, leaning in closer.

Logan glared at her. "I'm not telling you anything," he said.

"Do you know anyone in East City?" she asked.

Logan struggled against the ropes again. These people were asking him questions. So they wanted information. Could they be terrorists of some sort?

"What are your orders once you arrive in East City?" the woman asked.

Logan spit in her face.

He knew the instant he did it that he shouldn't have, but it had been an impulsive reaction.

The woman stepped back and wiped her face with her sleeve. She looked at the other man.

"Well, he's not talking. Help me put down the plastic," she said.

Logan watched perplexed as his too captors laid down a plastic sheet, covering most of the van's floor.

"Are you going to torture me?" he asked, trying not to sound afraid.

The woman put down her dagger and picked up a long sword.

"Put him on the sheet," she said.

"What do you want?" Logan asked, but his captors weren't speaking anymore.

Logan struggled as the man dragged him onto the sheet.

"Are you guys terrorists?" he asked.

They still said nothing. Logan began to struggled more, trying desperately to free himself.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

The woman said nothing, but removed her mask and looked him in the eye. Logan looked from her face, to the sheet, and finally the sword. His eyes grew big with realization.

"No," Logan whispered. He struggled harder against his restraints. "What do you guys want?!"

"If he gets any louder we're going to have to gag him," the woman said, nonchalantly.

"No," Logan pleaded. "Please. You can't kill me. People will notice I'm missing. The military will get involved,"

They both ignored him.

Logan began to struggle desperately. They couldn't kill him. He couldn't end his life in the back of some van.

"People will come after me!" he cried, suddenly very desperate. "I'm a military officer. They will notice,"

"They won't," the woman said.

Logan grew silent. What could they mean?

"What do you guys want?" he begged. "Please. Whatever you want I will give it to you!"

The woman looked at him, her expression cold. She put one foot on his stomach to keep him still.

"I am truly sorry that we couldn't make this painless. However guns are too loud and drugs are way too expensive," she said, raising the sword.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He only had one last card. One last hope to save himself. But he knew he could never say it, he knew that he could never endanger her.

The sword came crashing down.

And Logan Reed was no more.

* * *

Logan Reed's impostor waited until he heard his handler cover the body before turning around.

That didn't stop him from seeing the blood through the clear plastic. He closed his eyes again. He heard his handler sigh and a rustling of some sort.

"I covered the body with a carpet. You can open your eyes," she said.

Reed opened his eyes, staring to the bundle of plastic and carpet on the floor.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now," his handler passed him Logan Reed's bag, "you go and check into the hotel. While I go and dispose the body,"

Reed found that he was nodding. The hotel, right. The next stage of the plan.

"Hey," his handler said. "You okay?"

"What are you.." he trailed off. "Where are you going to..." He just couldn't complete the question.

His handler sighed. "There is a lake which is a good distance from town. I'll weight down the body and dispose of it there,"

Reed found himself nodding again.

"Hey," his handler said, leaning in closer. She smelt like blood. "I would be back in a few hours. By then it'll almost be lunch time. I'll pick up something for both of us, okay?"

Reed found himself nodding again.

"Just get to the hotel, that's all you have to do," she said.

* * *

Somehow Reed had managed to make it to the hotel and check in. Once in his room, he sat down heavily in a chair, overwhelmed.

'Whatever you want I will give it to you!'

Those had been Logan Reed's last words.

Men kept insisting that they will die with bravery, but in the end most of them ended up begging.

Reed closed his eyes.

They murdered a man.

Just so that they could find out a little more information.

Was it really worth it?

Reed took a deep breath. He had to do it, didn't he? He was ordered to. Logan Reed was just a small part of the bigger plan. The ends justify the means, or something like that.

Reed felt as if he had been sprinting for hours. His head hurt and his limbs felt like noodles.

He rubbed the bracelet on his wrist.

It was for his family. It was _all_ for his family.

His father had been a fur trader. They had made just enough money to keep living. Then his father died. His mother had always been a bit feeble, but grief made her practically bed ridden. His two younger siblings were too young to help out. In the end, he took over as head of the family. In the next few months they had faired pretty well. Those who lived at the base of the Briggs mountains mostly lived off of the land. He was able to catch enough game to put food on the table.

Then winter came.

Drachman winters are long and incredibly harsh. Blizzard after blizzard came, their small store of food and money diminished within a few weeks. Sometimes the weather was so bad they they couldn't even collect firewood. The only thing that could distract them from the intense cold were their growling stomachs. Multiple times they considered just walking out into the cold icy world; death by hypothermia was faster than death by starvation.

Desperate, he had enlisted into the military. The Drachman military provides benefits for soldiers and their families if they enlisted for life. He had been just 16 when he enlisted, knowing that he would live and die under their control, but also knowing that he was selling his soul so that his mother, sister, and brother will have a chance to live.

He would do anything for his family. Sacrifice anything.

That was all the mattered.

Before Reed could think another thought, he had fallen asleep.

Hours later a knock on the door rose Reed from his light doze. He slowly stood and made his way to the door. The clock on the wall indicated that it was almost noon. His handler was probably returning with lunch. He opened the door expecting to see her familiar face.

He was wrong.

His visitor was a woman. Her hair was down and she was wearing a light pink dress.

"Logan," she said. "I told you to come see me as soon as you arrived. I've been waiting all..." she trailed off.

Maybe it was his look of confusion when he saw her. Maybe it was the way his eyes didn't flash with recognition. Maybe he didn't look that much like Logan Reed as he thought. Whatever it was, it caused the girl before him to take a step back.

"You're not..." she said. "Where's Logan?" she said taking another step back.

"I don't know who you are talking about," he lied.

The woman glared at him. "The front desk told me that Logan would be in this room. Where is he?" Fear was starting to grow in her eyes. She glanced down the hall to see if anyone else was nearby.

Reed opened his mouth trying to think of a plausible excuse.

The woman took another step back.

"You did something to him, didn't you?" she said.

Before even thinking about it, Reed grabbed her dress and pulled her into the room. He clamped his hand over her mouth, before she could scream. Her hazel eyes were wide with fear. And without a second thought he bashed her head against the wall, effectively knocking her unconscious.

He watched as her body crumbled to the floor.

'What in the world did I just do?'

 _'What in the world did I just do?'_

He took a deep breath, then two, then three. Before he knew it he was gasping for air, breathing rapidly.

 _'What did I just do?'_

He didn't have any other option, right? She knew that he wasn't Logan. She saw him. She could have called the police.

He closed the door and begun to pace back and forth across the room. Trying his best to ignore the unconscious body near the door. Trying his best to think reasonably.

She was only knocked out, right? That meant she was still alive. That meant she was going to wake up.

 _'Unless she is already dead'_

Reed crouched before the girl and felt her neck, looking for a pulse. He was both relived and terrified when he found it.

He needed to restrain her. He found some rope in the closet and used it to bind her wrists and her ankles. As a final safety measure he rolled up a piece of cloth and put as a gag in her mouth. He looked at her, surprised that his hands were no longer shaking.

He took a deep breath and sat down on the floor, suddenly exhausted.

 _'What am I going to do?'_

 _'What in the world am I going to do?'_

A second knock on the door, brought him back to reality. He stayed silent.

"Are you in there?" he heard his handler ask through the door.

Dazed, Reed stood and opened the door, closing it the moment she was inside.

"So I thought getting two orders would be a bit suspicious, so I found a shop that sold really big sandwiches and thought we could share," his handler said, stepping inside. "Are you okay with..." she trailed off, having spotted the body on the floor.

"What happened?" she asked, glaring at him.

"She came in just a little while ago. She mentioned Logan, I think he might've been her friend or something. I don't know," Reed said, trying to keep his voice steady.

His handler threw her bag at him.

"I leave you alone for four hours and this is what happens!" she hissed.

"She could tell I wasn't Logan. I couldn't just let her leave," Reed said, defensively.

His handler scoffed and began to pace a bit, seemingly collecting her thoughts.

"Alright, alright, we can work with this," she said. "Help me get her to the bathroom,"

"What?" he said.

His handler sighed. "We need to find out who she is and if there is anyone who knows where she is. I am going to question her. However should we need to..." she trailed off. "The floor in this room is carpet, if we get blood on it, it's never coming out,"

Reed nodded, understanding. He helped her drag the unconscious body the the bathroom. They put the girl in the tub.

"Stay back by the door and get your gun out," his handler said, sitting on a chair next to the tub. She herself took out a dagger. "If the girl somehow manages to get past me, shoot her. We'll deal with the mess afterwards,"

Reed nodded. His handler began to poke at the girl, slowly helping her to regain consciousness.

Even from across the small bathroom, Reed could see that her eyes were full of fright. The girl shrunk back against the tub, eyeing the dagger in his handler's hand.

"I'm going to take out your gag, then I will ask you some questions. If you answer truthfully, then we might let you go, but if you scream or try to escape, I will end you right here. Understood," she said, her voice cold.

The girl nodded.

His handler took out the gag. "Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Kani," the girl said, "Who are you people?"

His handler ignored her, "How do you know Logan Reed?"

Kani looked as if she might cry. "I'm his girlfriend," she said.

"Explain," his handler said.

"I met Logan while I was on vacation in the West a few years ago. We kept writing to each other even after I left. We started dating. He managed to get transferred to East City so that he will be closer to me," she said, she started to breathe hard. "Please, where is he? What did you do to him?"

The spies understood. From the files they had gotten in West City they had been able to take care of everything that was in military records. However it seemed that Logan Reed had a long distance girlfriend, something they had no way of knowing.

"Does anyone know you were in a relationship?" the handler asked.

"No, Logan wanted to wait," she said.

"Did you tell your family?" the handler asked.

"No, I don't get along with them," she starts to cry. tears running down her face. "Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone about what happened. I promise,"

Reed looked away.

"Where do you live?" the handler asked. The girl began to cry louder. "Where?" she said harshly. Shoving the dagger in her face.

"I live on the corner of Glen Road and Main street, brown apartment building, apartment 305. Please. Please just let me go," she cried.

"You mentioned letters. Where do you keep them?" the handler asked.

"In my bedroom cabinet. I have money in the cabinet too and my bank statements as well, you can have them, you can have all of them. Just please let me go," she said, then began to drown in her sobs.

His handler stood and turned toward Reed.

"I'm going to go and try to find those letters. Wait until I get back. until then, keep and eye on her," she moved to walk past him. he stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"What are we going to do?" he whispered.

His handler looked down, "We can't let her live,"

"Are you sure we can't just-" he tried.

"No, if we let her go, we'll risk the whole operation. Listen, she has seen you, she knows her boyfriend is missing. It's only a matter of time she puts two and two together and if she does report it, you will be arrested and killed," his handler said, "I'm sorry your assignment turned out this way, but we have to move forward. We can't take risks. We have to fulfill our orders,"

"Alright," he said.

"I'll be back soon," she said, opening the door and closing it behind her. Reed stood there for a few moments until he heard the door to the hotel room open and close.

"Hey," the girl called, having run out of tears. "Help me, please help me,"

Reed turned toward her and sat down in the chair. "I can't do that," he said.

"Please, I promise I won't tell anyone, please." she begged. "please,"

Reed wished that she would stop talking. After a few moments, she looked down and began to sob quietly.

Reed could hear clock on the wall, steadily ticking. He wasn't sure how much time passed. Eventually Kani had stopped crying. She looked at him over the rim of the tub, face full of dried tears. Reed tried to keep his eyes on the wall.

"Help me," Kani said, "Please, help me."

Reed looked at her. He couldn't help but feel sympathy for her. She did nothing wrong. She was innocent. She wasn't supposed to die. He tried to think how he would feel if he were lying in that tub. If his _sister_ was lying there. Suddenly Reed found himself reaching toward one of the glasses by the sink. He filled it with water and handed it to Kani.

"Here, drink something," he said.

Kani sat up a bit and took the glass with her bound hands. She drank about half of it, before handing it back to him.

"Thank you," she said.

Reed went back to staring at the wall.

"I don't think you're that bad," she said. "I don't think you want to be here,"

"I suppose you're right," Reed said.

"Then why don't you just let me go," Kani pleaded.

Reed tried not to look at her. Kani took his silence for an answer.

"You're going to kill me aren't you," she said suddenly.

Reed couldn't help but look at her now. Her eyes were wide with fright, her lip was quivering.

"I'm sorry," Reed managed to say.

"Why?" Kani asked. "What did I do?"

"I'm sorry," Reed said again. "You did nothing wrong,"

"Then why-" Kani started.

"Please stop talking," Reed said looking at the wall.

Kani choked back a sob and it was silent once more.

"Can I have some more water?" Kani asked, looking down.

Reed nodded and rested the gun on his knee, turning around to reach for the glass.

Suddenly Kani lunges for the gun. Her bound hands manages to grasp the barrel.

Reed lets out a surprised yelp as the weapon slips from his grasp. He is losing his grip.

Kani's hazel eyes are wide and desperate. She opens her mouth and screams.

Reed flinches as the horrid sounds fill the room. Panic fills his veins. In one swift move, he grabs the dagger on the counter and plunges it forward.

The screaming turns into pained screeches.

Reed grits his teeth and plunges the dagger forward again, and again, and again.

Until the sound finally stops.

An hour later the handler returns to find Reed sobbing on the bathroom floor, blood covering his hands, face, and chest.

In the tub lies a bloody lifeless body.

* * *

\- Present day -

Reed wakes to a start and practically leaps out of bed.

Remnants of his nightmare are still tearing at his mind. He has been pushed into an unending panic. His lungs are heaving, gasping for breath. His heart pounding frantically in his chest. He runs his hands through his hair, a futile attempt to ground himself, to regulate his breathing, to calm himself down.

His frantic breaths turn to helpless sobs.

 _'When will this ever end?'_

He shuts his eyes tight, both comforted and frightened by the darkness.

The darkness that has so readily welcomed his soul.

The panic spreads further through his body. Suddenly he feels that he needs to run. To flee. To escape.

But there is no where to flee to.

There is a monster in his mind and there is nothing he can do about it.

He forces himself to breathe, to walk, hand grasping at his heart.

Somehow he finds his way to the bathroom.

He leans over the toilet and retches. Thoroughly disgusted with himself and his past.

Afterwards, he avoids looking in the mirror. Instead splashing cool water on his face over and over. A foolish attempt to cleanse himself.

Time passes and his heart slowly begins to beat normally, his lungs are no longer heaving.

He takes a moment to stare at the water draining from the sink. Swirling in lazy circles before disappearing. He closes his eyes, staring at the darkness, before forcing himself to look up.

Brown eyes stare back at him in the mirror. Eyes attached to a face that both belongs and doesn't belong to him.

If only his eyes were a different color. Or maybe his hair. Or if he was just a bit taller. Or shorter. Then he would have been fine.

The real Logan Reed could be happily living his life. While he himself could remain the White Wolves contact. Bored out of his mind, but less stressed and more naive.

He traced his leather bracelet. Uncontent with the hollowness in his chest.

 _'You have no right to complain about pain after you have caused so much heartache'_

Suddenly, the room feels uncomfortable. He feels as if he is in a prison, trapped, and unable to escape.

Reed leaves his room, intending to pace around the inn's common room until sunrise. Going out for a walk would seem to be the most natural option, but this town isn't necessarily safe.

However as he heads downstairs, he finds that he isn't the only one who has trouble sleeping.

Colonel Mustang is seated at one of the inn's tables, drinking a brandy.

Reed halts in his tracks, unsure if he should turn around or say hello.

Mustang turns and looks at him. His expression unreadable.

"Can't sleep either?" Mustang asks, casually.

"No," Reed admits.

"Nightmare?" Mustang asked.

"Of a sort," Reed said.

"Want to talk about it?" Mustang offered.

Reed considers saying "no" and just leaving. And if he wasn't a spy, he would have done just that. However he had been trained in intelligence work and he knew how to recognize opportunities when he saw them.

If he did say "no" and left, it would not only seem suspicious, but it might make Mustang even more curious about him. After all, Mustang was the one to debrief him after the Parktown Incident. There was a good chance the Colonel was already curious about him. That would only cause more problems.

However if he did open up a bit, the Colonel might later do the same. Then, Reed might be able to answer some of the questions he had. And after all, he didn't need to tell Mustang every detail about his life. He could just be really vague.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," Mustang said, taking a sip from his glass.

"No, no, it's okay," Reed said. Unable to think of anything to say, he walked over and sat down next to the Colonel. "I really don't mind them that much,"

"And yet they are still keeping you awake," Mustang commented.

Reed tries to find a way to explain it. He starts, "It's just that in my life I've made many sacrifices. The nightmares are just the consequences. So if I have to deal with them, then so be it."

"You sound so noble." Mustang says. He pauses. "I wish I could say the same,"

"What do you mean?" Reed asked.

Mustang falls silent and stares at his hands, "My nightmares are the consequences of the horrors I've committed."

Reed looks up, "Are you talking about Ishval?"

"Yes," Mustang said. Reed had heard stories about Ishval. The horrible tales of a whole people, slaughtered. Mustang sighed. "Years later and I'm still haunted by what I did."

"But you were just following orders," Reed reasoned.

"That doesn't make it right. And now I have to deal with that guilt, forever."

Reed looks down, conflicted. "Would you have rather disobeyed your orders?"

"It's not that simple. It is a soldier's duty to follow his orders no matter what they are, but I know that what I did was still wrong. And I hope I never have to do that again, instead I work to protect those close to me,"

"But that might not always be the case," Reed said, before he can fully understand what he is saying, "What if you were in a situation where the best way to protect those close to you would be to follow those irrational orders?"

"Then it's time to change the rules to the game and find another way out. There are few situations where you only have two options to choose from,"

Reed falls silent, contemplating the Colonel's words.

Did he really only have two options to choose from? Or was there some other solution he had overlooked?

Mustang downs the rest of his drink with one gulp. He sighs and begins to stand.

"You should get some rest, Lieutenant. It's late," he said.

Reed watched as Mustang began to walk up the steps. Of all things, he had never expected to have a deep conversation with Colonel Mustang at the dead of night. In fact, the more he thought about it, it was weird that Mustang would share this information with him to begin with.

"The reason, you are telling me this," Reed said, coming to the only reasonable conclusion, "The reason that I am here. It's because of the Parktown Incident, isn't it?

Mustang chuckled and looked him in the eye, answering his question without speaking. "You should get some sleep. It looks like you need it," he said.

Reed watched as the Colonel vanishes from view.

There is no doubt about it, Mustang is starting to trust him.

Reed doesn't know how he should feel about that. Part of him is relieved. This is proof that Reed hasn't lost his cover.

And this might work out in the end, if Mustang trusts him, then he wouldn't be a suspect to Edward's murder.

 _'Did you forget_ _your nightmare already?'_

 _'Have you forgotten Kani?'_

Suddenly, Reed feels bile rise up from his stomach.

He gags and waits for the moment to pass.

He hadn't thought about Kani. Not since Parktown.

Most of the time he tries not to think about her at all.

Reed tries to ignore the tears gathering his eyes, refusing to acknowledge them even as they slide down his face.

His heart aches in his chest. A dull pain that he can never escape.

He turns to face the wall. Silently wishing that there was a window. So that he could see the stars.

So that he could be reminded of how complex darkness can be.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Clarification: no, that was not the Parktown Incident. The Parktown Incident would take place two months before the events of the story._

 _More fun facts. (aka explaining my thought process of writing this chapter)_

 _Originally, the nightmare scene existed purely as a build up to the last scene. I chose to write about "Reed" replacing the real Logan Reed, because it seemed to be the most interesting topic (the Parktown Incident gets it's own chapter later on). However as I was writing it, I realized how much of a pivotal moment it would have been for Reed. That's when I decided to write in Kani. For a majority of my drafts Kani remained just a bit of plot I could add to the story if I got bored. However while "Reed" could justify Logan Reed's death, Kani's murder is unjust. Kani died because Reed panicked. Her death could have been avoided. That's one of the reasons why it haunts Reed so much._

 _That's why there is a notable shift in Reed's personality from the start of this chapter vs. the rest of the story. At the start of the chapter shows Reed's genuine personality. It was actually fun to write him when he wasn't super depressed or paranoid. However after he kills Kani, everything changes. He becomes more paranoid and withdrawn. This will be developed even more in later chapters._

 _Also originally, the switch was supposed to happen in some backwater town. However I switched it to Parktown when I realized that would open up more opportunities for the Parktown Incident._

 _School is starting soon and I won't have as much time to write. So t_ _he next update should be in the next month or so. I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to post after that. However I promise not to leave you guys hanging. At very least I'll leave a note on my profile saying when the next update should be._


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note:_

 _I finally got around to w_ _atching The Conqueror of Shamballa. I think it was a pretty okay movie. Some plot points confused me and didn't make sense, but it definitely could have been worse._

 _I meant to post this sooner. My original plan was to post this a week after "Shattered Dreams." However the first draft greatly suffered from inconsistent characterization. In the end I had to rewrite it and scrap most of those scenes._ _School started a while ago and this year I am taking on a lot of new responsibilities. As a result I cannot write as often as I used to. However,_ _I am still very determined to finish this story. It is just going to take me longer to the write chapters._ _At very least, I'll leave a note on my profile saying when the next chapter should be._

 _In this chapter there is some room for interpretation so I want to make it clear that there will be no romantic subplots in this story._ _There will be some good friendships and implied glances, but nothing really past that._ _This fanfic just has too many subplots._ _It's causing a bit of a problem in the writing process._

 _For reference bruised ribs take 3-4 weeks to heal and broken ribs take six weeks to heal. So the pain would be pretty intense, even more if you are engaging in heavy construction work._

 _I am really grateful for all the reviews and feedback I have gotten so far. Thank you so much for the continued support._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

Mustang pulled back the curtain and gazed onto the street below, creasing his brow as he did so. He observed as a rather small figure, notably wearing white gloves and a hat covering golden hair, crossed the street and rounded the corner. He resisted the urge to sigh.

Behind him, he could feel his companion's eyes trained on his back. Most likely already sensing his underlying worry. Mustang hid his emotions well, but Riza Hawkeye knew him better.

"You should close the curtain, sir." Hawkeye said, after a moment, "Someone might see you."

Mustang let the curtain fall back into place and turned to face his subordinate. They were meeting in Hawkeye's room this time. It was just the two of them, so it wasn't that crowded. Plus, her room had a view of the street.

"I doubt the people are that observant," Mustang said, taking a seat on the bed beside her.

"It's not them I'm worried about," Hawkeye said, turning to grab her bag, "We should get started. The postal truck to Heinsworth leaves at 6 o'clock."

On covert missions like this, protocol strictly regulated contact between the intelligence team and the military. Prior to the mission, secure methods of communication and security codes were set up. Only the ranking officer on the intelligence team had knowledge of these codes. Any sharing of those codes was met with an immediate court martial.

However it had taken Colonel Mustang approximately 15 seconds to come to the conclusion that following those orders would be a terrible idea. According to military reports, Ukon was hostile territory. They had absolutely no way to predict what dangers they might encounter on the mission. Should Mustang be killed, then the rest of the team would be stranded.

Hawkeye handed the Colonel a piece of paper and a pen. Mustang received them and twirled the pen in his hand.

On the top of the paper, he wrote, _"To My Dearest Jacqueline,"_

"Address the letter to either Jacqueline or Kate," Mustang explained, "That way we can be sure it reaches Havoc or Feury."

"And the security code?" Hawkeye asked.

Mustang jotted down a few more sentences.

"The code is in the third sentence. See what I wrote, _'Here the tulips are blooming.'_ The number of letters in the words are 4 - 3 - 6 - 3 - 8. It's an even - odd - even pattern. It can also be an odd - even - odd pattern, as long as it alternates. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Hawkeye said.

"For the distress code, put the security code in the fourth sentence," Mustang said. "The secondary security code is just to restate the opening greeting. I'll probably end with _'Missing You, Dear'_ or something."

Hawkeye nodded, "And where will the letter be addressed?"

"492 South Main Street, North City. All Ukon's mail is being processed and screened in Heinsworth. It honestly doesn't matter where we address the letters. As long as they are addressed to 'Jacqueline' or 'Kate.'"

"We should probably put the return address as the inn. So that they have some means to contact us," Hawkeye said.

Mustang nodded and wrote the address on the envelope.

Once more, he felt an unrelenting worry pry at his mind. Mustang wanted nothing more than to discuss the issue with her. But at the same time, fear held him back. Afraid that they would both come to the same conclusion.

So instead, he asked her about the mission.

"How are your sweeps of the town going?" Mustang asked.

Hawkeye stared at the door. "I have yet to find anything particularly noteworthy. There are several abandoned and empty buildings in the town, but all of them check out. There might be some hidden storages on private property, but without knowing where to look, it is a bit pointless to search for them," she said.

"And the defensive and offensive capabilities of the town?" Mustang said.

"Ukon is fairly isolated. Most of the town is surrounded by untouched forest. The closest city to Ukon is Heinsworth. However the only transportation between the two towns are the train tracks. The tracks themselves run along an open field, making them susceptible to ambush. There might be some backroads and trails going through the forest, but the military has no records of them. As for the town itself, I was unable to access the building records. Someone could easily construct a secret basement and no one would know. In short, Ukon strength mainly lies in it's inaccessibility. Should the military try to attack Ukon, transportation to the town itself would be difficult. While gaining control of the town should be easy," Hawkeye said.

She fell silent, tapping her shoe against the floorboards.

Anyone else would have assumed that she was done speaking. However Colonel Mustang understood his Lieutenant well. Although she seldom expressed her true feelings, he knew that the subtle creasing of her brow was a sign of frustration.

"Is there anything else noteworthy?" Mustang said, silently asking her to speak her mind.

"Intelligence missions are supposed to be slow," Hawkeye admitted, "but something feels off."

"You noticed too," Mustang said.

Hawkeye nodded.

Mustang sighed. "The military was convinced that Ukon would be crawling with White Wolves. All evidence pointed towards it. The demolished station. The torn up tracks. But so far our major breakthrough has been a kid gang. It's obvious that the White Wolves are planning something, but we have no clue what it is."

"We won't know for sure until the vandals let something slip," Hawkeye said. She paused for a moment, contemplating if she finish her should thought. If she should bring up what he _really_ wanted to discuss. "Hopefully Edward will be able to figure it out soon."

The pen stopped abruptly mid sentence, ink blotting onto the page.

Mustang pursed his lips into a thin line.

Hawkeye looked away, "There is no use blaming yourself for what happened. It won't help Edward or yourself."

Mustang shook his head. "I just wish that I could do more for him."

"Has Edward mentioned the incident?" Hawkeye inquired.

"No," Mustang sighed. He leaned back, laying down on the bed, and rubbed his eyes. "He keeps putting on a brave face. Acting like everything is fine. But he is going to reach his limit soon." He took a breath. "He's so proud. I don't know what to expect when he finally crumbles."

"It doesn't matter what state he is in. What matters is that we are there to pick him up when it happens," Hawkeye said.

"I don't think he'll accept my help," Mustang said.

"Don't be so sure, Colonel. He looks up to you more than you know," Hawkeye said.

"That's because he's so short," Mustang retorted.

"You know, it would help if you didn't tease him so much," Hawkeye said.

Mustang stared at the ceiling. "I know, but in a weird way it helps to give him a reason to hate me. Someone to direct his feelings at. Plus, now almost all of the construction workers know what he looks like. Hopefully they'll look out for him when I cannot."

Hawkeye grew quiet, staring at the door.

"What is it?" Mustang asked.

"Edward's run in with the White Wolves," Hawkeye paused. "It's the biggest setback he's had since..." she trailed off, not finishing the rest of her sentence.

"Since he and his brother committed human transmutation," Mustang finished.

Hawkeye nodded. "Joining the military gave him hope. It gave him something to do. A goal to look forward to. But now, he's had a major setback and all he can do is wait until his injuries heal," she paused. "I'm afraid that he'll do something risky. That he'll get hurt again in the process."

"The best we can do is keep and eye on him. Try to keep him from going down the wrong path," Mustang said.

Hawkeye nodded and they fell silent once more. Mustang stared at the ceiling. There was one last thing he wanted to ask her.

"What is your impression of Lieutenant Reed?" Mustang asked.

Hawkeye fixed the cuff of her sleeve, a tell tale sign of nervousness.

"He seems like a model officer, hardworking, and devoted," she paused. "Yet I noticed that he likes to spend most of his time alone. Often times, he has to push himself to socialize."

Mustang nodded. "I actually spoke with him the other night. Something about him struck me. Like he had a lot of things weighing him down," he paused. "But he is hiding something. What he did during the Parktown Incident. It is not something that happens by accident."

"Do you have any theories?" Hawkeye asked.

"Nothing I can confirm," Mustang said.

He rubbed his eyes, fatigue spreading across his face.

"I'm sorry I brought you into this," he said sincerely, looking her in the eye.

"There is nothing to apologize for," Hawkeye said, holding his gaze. "Besides, someone needs to watch your back."

Mustang smiled and closed his eyes.

Hawkeye watched him for a moment, before turning back to look at the door. She'll give him one minute. One minute before she shook him awake and demanded that he finish writing the letter. One minute until they dived back into the mission at hand.

But until then, for just one minute, she will let him escape all the fears and responsibilities that weighed him down.

* * *

Ed waited until he was safely hidden within the shadows before slumping against the alley wall. He took a few ragged breaths, wincing at how the movement further agitated his ribs. He gritted his teeth and formed his hands into fists, trying to ignore the pain. This was starting to get really tiresome.

He hadn't expected construction work to be this strenuous. Their days consisted of hours of lifting, hauling, and assembling under the scorching sun. The heat combined with his automail was enough to leave him worn out by the end of the day, but his injuries were making things almost unbearable.

It started yesterday. Ed had been struggling to lift a heavy plank. He was able to get it halfway off the ground before the pain became unbearable and he had to let it drop. Ed had expected Mustang, who was standing right next to him, to made some snide remark. But the Colonel had simply looked at him for a moment, before lifting the plank himself and suggesting that Ed grab the toolbox. After that Mustang handled most of the heavy lifting.

In fact, since the mission started, Mustang hadn't even mentioned Ed's run in with the White Wolves. In some ways Ed was grateful that the Colonel hadn't brought it up, because he really did not want to talk about it. But at the same time, he was infuriated that Mustang was going out of his way to care for him.

Ed gripped his collar, remembering the incident this morning.

Mustang always woke up early. Something Ed could never understand. The Colonel took his time to get ready, hogging the bathroom for a good half an hour everyday. Ed didn't mind it that much. The way he saw it, the longer Mustang stayed in the bathroom, the longer he got to sleep in. However, this morning, much to his surprise, after Mustang was done with the bathroom, Ed had entered it to find a glass of water and two pain relief pills sitting on the counter. For a brief second, Ed considered flushing them down the toilet in an act of defiance, but the ache in his ribs convinced him otherwise.

Ed would never admit it, but he had been able to pass through most of the day without that much pain. However that was hours ago and the pills were starting to wear off. No matter what, Ed knew that he was not about to ask for more.

Ed took another deep breath and rolled his shoulder, pulling at his collar as he did so. Enough feeling sorry for himself. He had a job to do.

He began to walk down the alley, toward the eastern part of town. The vandals met in the backroom of an abandoned clinic. As usual, there was a guard posted near the entrance. The "guard" was one of the oldest, biggest, and strongest kids in the gang. Ed didn't like him that much, which was fine, because he didn't like Ed.

As usual, the guard scowled as he saw Ed approach from down the alley.

Ed adjusted the papers beneath his jacket. He tried to keep from grimacing and focused his eyes on the ground. Should he be lucky, he would be able to slip in without a problem. However luck wasn't something he usually had.

"What's inside your jacket?" the guard asked, stepping in front of the door.

"Just papers for the meeting," Ed said.

"Show me," he said, crossing his arms.

Ed held back a glare and begrudgingly opened his jacket.

"See, it's just paper," Ed said.

The guard narrowed his eyes at Ed. As much as he wanted to harass and belittle him, he also didn't want to make Ed late for the meeting. Eventually, he stepped to the side, cracking his knuckles as he did so.

Ed tried not to roll his eyes as he slipped through the doorway.

The backroom had an eerie feel to it. The windows were boarded shut and the lights had long stopped working. Candles, although placed around the room, failed to properly illuminate the space. Dark shadows lingered in the corners. The walls were lined with empty and broken shelves. An old exam table, with a questionable crimson stain, took up most of the space.

The leaders of the vandals looked up as Ed approached, but didn't greet him.

His name was Paul. Ed had figured that out by the second meeting. Paul was overly arrogant, but he was well respected. A good half of the kids went along with the vandalism solely because Paul lead it.

"Here are the papers," Ed said, passing them to Paul. Paul took them without an ounce of gratitude and began to flip through the pages.

"Is this all you could get?" he asked, discontent.

Ed gritted his teeth. Those papers detailed the train station's reconstruction. It had taken days to get all that information.

"Yes," Ed said.

"Are you sure?" The boy asked.

"Of course I am," Ed said.

Paul sighed, "Well, we're just going to have to work with what we have." He began to put the papers on the table. Then, as if remembering something, he looked up and scanned the crowd. Ed, who was standing right next to him, heard him whisper, "Where is she?" under his breath.

Ed looked around the room as well, trying to figure out who was missing.

Suddenly, they heard rapid footsteps echo from outside. The group grew tense as the footsteps approached. Paul began to hastily regather the papers. They all watched as a figure approached in the doorway.

Everyone relaxed when they saw who had arrived.

It was just the brown haired girl.

"Where were you?" Paul asked, taking a small step forward.

The girl leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. "Sorry, my dad wouldn't let me leave the house. I had to sneak out."

"Sneak out?" Paul said, looking concerned "You haven't had to sneak out since..." The boy fell silent, a look of understanding crossing his face. The girl returned his gaze and simply nodded. Paul took a breath. "We'll discuss it later," he said, once again taking out the papers. "These are the plans for the station's construction."

The girl walked over to him and began to look them over.

"This is a lot of information," she said, looking at Ed, "Good job."

Paul seemed to ignore them.

"It looks like they plan to get the roof and exterior walls completed within a few days. After that they would work on the interior for about a week, before moving on to the tracks. We should probably strike again before they finish the interior. Any suggestions on what we should do this time?" Paul said.

Ed tuned them out. It wasn't anything interesting. (In the end, after a good half an hour, the kids would decide the steal the tools next.)

As the kids were scheming, Ed focused his attention on the brown haired girl. She was usually more talkative, giving insight to every comment, but today she was quiet.

So quiet, in fact, when she finally spoke, almost no one heard her.

"Haven't you guys forgot about something?" she said, softly.

"What is it?" Paul asked. He was standing right next to her and had heard her instantly.

"Remember the last time, when we tried to egg the station. Mark was there trying to stop us," she said.

Paul furrowed his brow. "Yeah, but he ended up backing down. He will do it again," he said, confidently.

"You are forgetting that afterwards, he went straight to the town council and made a very convincing argument on why they should stop the vandalism. The council said that they would do something, but we all know that they won't. So what happens when Mark finds out? What's to stop him and all of the construction workers from coming after us?" she said.

"But the construction workers don't know that we are responsible for the vandalism," Paul said.

"Mark knows," she said. "He could tell them."

"The second he does that he will find out," Paul said, gesturing towards Ed.

"So we're just going to deal with it as it goes?" she said, annoyed.

"That's what we always do," Paul said.

"That is not a plan," she said.

Paul scowled. "We cannot anticipate what everyone is going to do. Going with the flow is our only option," he said.

"That doesn't mean that we can't prepare," she said.

"There is nothing we can prepare for," Paul said.

She pursed her lips. "Paul, I don't think you are hearing me," she said.

"I am hearing you just fine. And I am telling you that you do not need to worry. So drop it," he said.

"This is a serious problem that we need to talk over," she said.

Paul opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off.

"She has a point you know," Ed said.

Paul's eyes snapped to Ed, clearly annoyed. "Stay out of this," he said.

"Well it's sort of my business, me being a part of the construction crew and all." Ed said. "Look, all I am saying is that it would be wise to take precautions."

"Is that a threat," Paul said.

"No, it's called intelligence, maybe you've heard of it," Ed spat. "Listen, some of the construction workers are getting really pissed off by the setbacks. A lot of them are leaving. However more are leaving then are willing to come in. So sooner or later they will turn to the city council to stop the vandalism. If that doesn't happen, then what is to stop them from taking matters into their own hands."

Ed slipped his hands into his jacket and formed them into fists, just as a precaution. He wasn't really sure why he was standing up for the brown haired girl. Logically speaking, he should just keep his head down. However, these kids were about to get stuck in a middle of a war they were not ready to fight. Even if the military and the White Wolves locked heads, Ed would do his best to keep the vandals and the construction workers out of the fray. It was the least he could do.

Paul, however, was oblivious to Ed's true motivation.

"What is your point?" Paul said, gritting his teeth.

"My point is the same as your friend's: we need to be careful. Watch the construction workers, see if there are any signs of them forming vigilante groups, and don't start any fights with them," Ed said.

"He has a point," someone whispered.

Once more, Paul looked to the brown haired girl.

They exchanged a knowing glance.

After a moment of hesitation, Paul nodded, "Alright, we'll discuss it later," he said. "This meeting is dismissed."

The kids around them moved to exit through the doorway. However both Paul and the brown haired girl stayed where they were. Ed began to wonder what had happened between the two. They seemed close, not the type to be put off by a little disagreement.

Ed lingered back among the kids, making sure he was one of the last one's to exit through the doorway. As soon as he was outside, Ed took a loop around the building. Once certain that the alley was clear. Ed crouched beneath one of the boarded up windows. From this spot he could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

"You don't know that for sure," Paul said, his voice strained and from the sounds of it, he was pacing.

"It may be unavoidable," the girl said.

"It's way too risky," Paul said, bluntly. "You're not doing it."

The girl made a disgruntled noise.

"Why can't we just wait for them to come to us?" Paul said, "You don't need to seek them out,"

"You know the type of people they are. It would only get worse the longer we wait. It is best to ask now while they don't have a clear plan, then it won't be so bad," she said.

Ed furrowed his brow. What were they talking about? Could it be the White Wolves?

"No," Paul said. "I won't allow you,"

The girl scoffed, "You don't control me."

"Do you hear yourself? This isn't some playground argument," he dropped his voice so low that Ed almost didn't hear it, "This is about visiting the White Wolves's headquarters. You could be _shot_ on sight just for showing up."

"I know," the girl said, plainly, "But the longer we wait the worse it gets, the more drastic the vandalization. We could get hurt. People could come after us. The Wolves have changed. I don't think they will protect us," she said.

The boy sighed. "I just don't want you to get hurt," he said.

"Neither do I," the girl said.

"Just promise me that you won't go alone," Paul said.

"I promise," the girl said.

Underneath the window Ed contemplated what he had just heard. So they were considering visiting the White Wolves's headquarters. That meant that the girl knew where it was located. However they both seemed stressed over something. It was obvious that showing up at a resistance group's headquarters was unwise, but it sounded like it was something more. And what did she mean by " _the White Wolves have changed?_ "

Ed didn't give himself the time to ponder. He could figure it out later. Right now he had to leave. The longer he stayed here the more likely he would be caught. Ed stood and pulled at his collar. His ribs had begun to hurt again. Picking up his pace, he turned toward the center of town, trying to put distance between himself and the abandoned clinic.

He was halfway down the street when he heard someone call out to him.

"Hey," a voice said.

Ed froze, fear washing through him. Hesitantly, he took a glance over his shoulder.

The brown haired girl was walking towards him. Ed searched her face, trying to gauge her emotions.

"Oh, hi," he said, trying his hardest to sound casual.

"I just want to thank you for standing up for me," the girl said, smiling.

Ed relaxed a bit. Maybe she hadn't seen him.

"There's no need to," he said, returning the smile.

The girl shook her head "I also want to apologise for the way Paul was acting. Please don't hold it against him. Today has just been very stressful," she said.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine," Ed said.

The girl looked down at her feet. "Where are you headed?" she asked.

Ed paused for a moment. Technically speaking, he was supposed to report back before going to the inn for dinner.

"I don't mean to pry or anything," the girl said quickly, afraid that she was overstepping. "But I was just going to wander around the town for a bit. I'm not very eager to go home," she said. "Would you like to join me?"

A month ago, Ed would have accepted solely because of the girl's ties to the White Wolves. However the more Ed thought about it, the more appealing the idea of a pleasant walk became.

Since becoming a State Alchemist, his life was full of endless missions, reports, and dead ends. Endless days of worrying about his brother, their secret, and their bodies. Long nights full of him making promises he wasn't sure he could keep. He had almost forgotten how simple his life had once been.

Back in Resembool, a pleasant walk would have been the highlight of his day. Perhaps he missed that more than he realized.

"Where do you want to go?" Ed asked. After all, at the latest, he had to report back by dinner. He could have some fun until then.

"Well, Ukon isn't that big of a town, but there are some cool sights here and there," she said. "Have you seen the mansion yet?"

"Mansion?" Ed asked.

"Yes, it's an old abandoned building in the far eastern part of town. Bit of a history to it. Come on I'll show you. You might like the architecture," she said.

Without another thought, Ed pushed all thoughts of the mission out of his mind. Deciding that for once, even if it was only for an hour, he would revert back to that simple country boy he had once been.

The mansion was located on a slight hill near the eastern edge of the forest. It sat in the middle of a dried out lawn and was surrounded by a large iron fence. Ages ago, it was once a magnificent building. However little remained of it's past beauty. The paint had peeled and the brick walls faded. The once spectacular stained glass windows were now shattered.

The girl lead Ed past the fence and through the backdoor of the mansion.

"Before this country was founded, Ukon was a small trading town. People used it as a stop over before heading to Xing. After this country was founded this rich guy was sent to Ukon to set up a outpost and such. He built most of the town, including this mansion. Though it was abandoned after they put in the town hall. Every now and then some council member would put forth a proposal to renovate this place, but there is really no point to it," she said.

They were inside the mansion now, walking through the old rooms. Ed could tell that it had once been lavishly furnished, but all that was left was threadbare carpet and peeling paint. There was a huge mural over the grand staircase that Ed was sure would have been beautiful, if moss wasn't growing over half of it.

"The downstairs isn't that much," she said. "But the attic is really cool."

Ed followed her up the marble staircase until they reached the top floor.

"Paul and I found the attic by mistake one day while we were playing hide and seek," the girl said. They had entered an old bedroom and walked over to the closest. "Watch." The girl pushed at the closet's back wall. The wall slid back an inch or two before triggering a mechanism and sliding to the side, revealing a hidden staircase.

Ed's eyes went wide.

"Come on, it's even better upstairs," she said.

Unlike downstairs, the attic was relatively untouched. It was a small room, perhaps half the size of Mustang's office. The ceiling, so low that Ed could touch it, was covered with elaborate engravings. Two small windows, on opposite sides of the room, allowed sunlight to fill the space. The room was full of chests, shelves, and an arrangement of elaborate objects.

Ed saw paintings, sculptures, vases, teapots, and clocks. To his immediate left there was a chest engraved with flowers and birds. Curious, Ed opened the chest to find a vast assortment of quills, ink, and fancy parchment. He opened another to find it full of embroidered linens. A shelf of vintage books caught his eye and he began to flip through them.

"Does the town council know about this?" he asked.

"The attic? No, I think we are one of the only one's to find it" she said. "Do you like it?"

"It's amazing," Ed said, looking around. "Do you like to explore?"

"Yup, Paul and I used to do it all the time," she said, nostalgic.

"Used to?" Ed asked.

"It's complicated," the girl said. "He's my best friend. My dad was often gone on business, so I spent most of my time playing outside with the other kids. Paul always made a point to look after me," she sighed. "But this vandalism stuff is going to his head."

"Then why not just stop," Ed said.

"It's not that simple," she said, crossing the small room and picking up a telescope. "The Wolves ordered us to vandalise the station. They are a resistance group. We can't really decline."

"But why do they want you to do that in the first place?" Ed asked.

"Who knows," the girl said. "They haven't been so reasonable recently."

Ed tilted his head. What did she mean by that?

The girl took the telescope and looked out the window.

Ed guessed that she didn't want to talk about it. He could ask her about it tomorrow. He had already found out a lot today.

They struck up a casual conversation after that. The girl told Ed of her various explorations around the town. Surprisingly, Ed found himself drawn to his childhood in Resembool. Ed found himself telling stories of his childhood, the time it rained so hard half the fields flooded, the time they went searching for their friend's lost pig, and the time they learned to swim. He was careful to never mention Resembool by name. Or anyone by name for that matter.

While they talked the girl played with the telescope, trying to glimpse the desert in the distance. Ed flipped through the old books, looking for anything that could be useful for their investigation. However everything here was at least a century old.

Ed wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed. He didn't have his pocket watch. Mustang had made him leave it at the inn.

"You should be getting back," the girl said, suddenly, looking out the window.

"What do you mean?" Ed said, looking up from his book. He had found a quite interesting one detailing the history of Ukon. The girl looked out the window and at the sun.

"Sunset is in one hour," she said. Ed looked down, he hadn't realized so much time had passed. "You should get going. I don't want your Master to worry,"

Ed almost choked at the word _Master_.

"I'll head back," Ed said. He stood and dusted off his clothes. "But don't think he likes me that much."

"That doesn't mean that he doesn't care. You're his apprentice," she said.

"That means nothing," Ed said, bitterly.

"Really? Can you honestly say that he has never looked out for you? That he never did you favours just because?"

Ed was silent.

"Adults look after us in their own way. Sometimes it's annoying, but in one way or another they still care," she said. She stood and brushed off her clothes.

"You can borrow that if you want," the girl said, pointing to the book Ed had been looking through. "It's not like anyone is going to miss it."

"Oh, thank you," Ed said.

"No problem," the girl said. "Feel free to come here anytime you want. Just make sure to put the wooden panel back in place."

"Will do," Ed said, tucking the book under his arm.

They descended the stairs and exited the mansion.

Once outside, they stood in front of the large iron gate.

"Well, I'll see you later," the brown haired girl said.

"Sure thing," Ed said.

The girl smiled and began to walk away.

As Ed watched the girl walk down the street. He suddenly remembered something.

"Wait," Ed called. "What's your name?"

The girl turned back and smiled, "Call me Meg."

* * *

A while later, Ed was walking toward the center of town.

He rolled his shoulder, his ribs aching painfully in his chest. Even breathing was starting to hurt.

Nonchalant nevertheless, he passed by a pastry shop and stopped to gaze at the window display.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Reed sitting on one of the outside chairs. He was reading a book, crumbs lying on a napkin before him.

Mustang had insisted that Ed contact someone after every meeting with the vandals. Mustang himself was the most logical option, but it would look suspicious if Ed went running to him after every meeting. Plus the group already knew that they didn't get along. Hawkeye would have done it, but she was busy doing sweeps of the town.

Ed felt uncomfortable meeting in such public places, but Reed had said that it looked more normal than meeting in some alley. Reed had also insisted on meeting at a different place everyday. Ed had a feeling that Reed was better at intelligence work than he let on.

Ed held no complaints about the Lieutenant. He seemed like an okay guy. He took Ed seriously, treated him like a fellow officer, and didn't press personal issues. Whenever Ed and Mustang would have a row, he didn't do much more than raise an eyebrow.

Ed respected that.

"How did it go?" Reed asked, barely moving his lips.

"The meeting was simple. The kids plan to vandalize the site in about a week. But something else happened," Ed said. They needed to be brief. "Paul and the brown haired girl, Meg. They had a conversation after the meeting. From the sounds of it, Meg wanted to visit the White Wolves headquarters," Ed said.

If Ed hadn't been staring at the window display, he would have noticed Reed stiffen at his words. He would have noticed him averting his gaze to scan the crowd. But even if he had been looking straight at Reed, he would have likely assumed that the Lieutenant was uneasy about the mission. He would never have guessed the true anxiety prying at Reed's mind.

Ed continued. "Paul was opposed to it and made her promise not to go there alone. It sounded like he wanted to wait for the White Wolves to come to them. However for some reason Meg said that that would be worse. She mentioned that the White Wolves have changed and that they weren't being reasonable, but nothing specific. Also, during the meeting she seemed more cautious and wanted to take extra precautions. Paul was initially against it, but agreed to be more careful," Ed said.

His ribs were feeling even worse. Ed grit his teeth and formed his hands into fists. He just needed to tough it out for a bit longer.

"I supported her during the meeting; so afterwards we started a conversation and ended up hanging out a bit. She showed me an old mansion in town, but there was nothing mission related," Ed said.

"What did you do at the mansion?" Reed asked.

"Nothing much," Ed hesitated. Although Meg hadn't said to not tell anyone. He sort of wanted the hidden attic to remain a secret. "She showed me a hidden room. I went through books detailing Ukon's history, couldn't find anything useful. We told stories about ourselves. She played with an old telescope," Ed said.

"Telescope?" Reed said. "What floor were you on?"

"Third story, but the ceilings were really tall so it was more like the fourth," Ed said, confused.

"That was clever of her," Reed remarked.

"What do you mean?" Ed asked.

"From the sounds of it, a lot of things are changing and the vandals need to make a move. It is unlikely that Meg would stand by and do nothing. She probably went to the mansion so that she could scope out the town. She most likely brought you along so that it wouldn't look suspicious and she would have an alibi. Remember that in the beginning she was opposed to having you in the group. She might trust you a bit more now, but she still should be wary about making you her friend," Reed said.

For a second Ed forgot about the pain in his ribs. He would hate to admit, but that did sound pretty clever.

"But then what was she looking for?" Ed asked.

"I don't know," Reed lied. "It is likely that either Meg or Paul will make a move soon. If Meg is truly that subtle then we might easily miss something. Keep an eye on Paul instead. If Paul seems really uneasy or anxious about something then Meg is probably making a move. She seems cautious and probably wouldn't do anything without him knowing."

"Do you think Meg might be the key to this?" Ed said.

"Most likely," Reed said.

Ed looked down at his shoes, unsure if he was worried or excited at that prospect.

"Is there anything else?" Reed asked.

Ed hesitated, "No, that was it,"

From the corner of his eye, Ed saw Reed studying him. It was only then did Ed realize that he had been pulling at his collar again.

"I'm fine," Ed lied. If only his ribs would hurry up and heal.

After a moment of thought, Reed discreetly put a few coins on the table. "You were here for a bit. Go into the shop and buy something. You'll looks less suspicious that way. Tomorrow, I'll be hanging out around the town's center," Reed said.

Ed took a stepped back from the display and brushed past the table. He pocketed the coins and entered the shop.

Once inside, the sweet aroma of baked goods swam around him. Ed allowed himself to take a deep breath and let his shoulders relax. He chose a small slice of cake with red frosting. As he was about to pay, he dug around his pocket for the change Reed gave him. His eyes instantly grew big when he counted the coins. Most of the small desserts in this shop were below 300 cents.

Reed had given him 900.

Ed held back a look of surprise and passed the cashier the money. With one hand he took the small cake while and with the other he played with the extra coins. Reed must have accidentally given him too much. Ed intended to return the extra change. However, when he turned around to leave the shop. Reed was gone.

* * *

Almost every town in Amestris had a town square, Ukon was no exception. The square was located in front of the town hall. An assortment of shops and stores lined the exterior. While in the center laid an ornate fountain. Many people were walking about, enjoying the evening breeze. A newspaper boy was walking back and forth, selling papers. To his left, a group of construction workers were flirting with some locals. While in front of the sandwich shop, two men were engaged in a heated debate over the proper way to deal with wood rot. A group of young children were playing next to the central fountain. Nearby them sat a lone construction worker.

Reed stared book down on his lap, trying to resist the urge to scan the crowd. He had only been sitting here for half an hour, but it felt like twice that much. He tried not to think about the single rose submerged in the water behind him. He had placed the meeting signal to the other Drachman spy this morning, but he had been meaning to speak with her since yesterday.

In an attempt to get his mind off of his growing anxiety, Reed thought of the other Drachman spy. He wasn't exactly sure what to think of her. From what he had seen, she had a cold and ruthless personality. However he had the slightest feeling that she was a bit inexperienced. After all, he had been able to put a knife to her neck. Perhaps she just didn't get much field work.

Reed couldn't help but wonder who was the better spy. On one hand he practiced covert skills practically everyday, plus he had pretty good aim. However her ruthless personality would become invaluable if she ever had to-

Reed shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about that.

No matter who was the better spy, by Dagger protocol, she was the commanding officer. So he had to follow her orders no matter what.

 _'Wonderful'_

A movement in his peripheral vision made Reed look up. Almost instantly, he recognized the other Drachman spy. She looked the same as she had in the alley, same dress and same hairstyle. The only difference was a sketchpad in her hands.

Casually, she opened it and began to sketch the fountain.

"Are you sure no one is following you?" she asked. Loud enough for him to hear, but soft enough to not be overheard.

"The rest of the team is busy," Reed said.

He was right. Mustang spent his evenings at the inn, chatting with other construction workers and collecting intel. Ed would most likely be heading back to the inn now. Hawkeye was doing sweeps of the town, double checking some buildings for clues. As long as Reed returned by dinner time, no one would be suspicious.

Reed let his eyes scan the crowd.

"Though I can't say the same for you," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"There are two members of the White Wolves located approximately 60 feet (18 meters) to your right," Reed said.

The other spy smiled, "So you are observant after all," She sighed. "But that's not that impressive,"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"There are two more White Wolves behind you," she said.

Reed stiffened. Slowly, so that no one would notice, he removed a small mirror from his pocket. He held it against the book pages and brought the book up to his face. This allowed him to see behind him.

"Look a little more to the right, near the bookstore," she said.

Sure enough, she was right.

Reed set his book down.

"What's going on?" he asked, "For days there wasn't a single trace of the Wolves in Ukon. Then over the last 24 hours, they all just started showing up,"

"Well I wish I could answer that, but they don't necessarily trust me," she said, a look of scorn on her face.

"They still allow you to walk around Ukon. That's impressive in itself," Reed said.

"Well, you can say I'm a bit of a special case," she said.

"What do you mean?" Reed asked.

"I'll tell you later. It's not important right now," she said.

Reed looked down.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked.

"I was hoping you knew what the Wolves were planning," he asked.

"Do you have any specific concerns?" she said.

"Jeopardizing the station's construction is a stupid move. It is only going to send more military personnel to Heinsworth. After all, it's the closest military base to Ukon. All it accomplishes is making it harder to raid the base and increasing the possibility that the military would get involved. Plus those kids are just a plain liability," Reed said. "Something isn't lining up. The Wolves wouldn't be this careless."

"Well, I'm all for finding out what the their plans are, but it's not like I can just ask someone," she said, kicking the ground in frustration.

"So what should we do?" he asked.

"Well you were their contact longer than I was. Is there anyone you can ask?" she said.

As much as Reed wanted to say "no," he knew that that would have been a lie.

. . .

 _"If you ever need help, feel free to swing by," Viera said._

 _"Viera, I don't think I will ever come back here," he admitted._

 _"I know," Viera said. "But you can never be so sure. There is a bar in Ukon called the 'Shrunken Tavern' or something. We always have a member stationed there,"_

. . .

"Do you know anything about the Shrunken Tavern?" Reed asked.

The contact creased her brow. "Yes, the bartender is a member of the White Wolves, big grump, why?"

Reed shook his head. "It could be nothing," he said.

"Tell me anyway," she said, bluntly.

"It'll just waste your time," Reed said, shaking his head, "I rather deal with it myself."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," she said, her voice cold, "Fact is, I already distrust you. So you do not want to give me another reason."

Reed bit in inside of his cheek. "We only met four days ago. I doubt I'm that unlikable," Reed said.

The spy pursed her lips. "I'm referring to about the Parktown Inicident."

Reed's eyes went wide. How the hell would she know about that?

"Why you so surprised?" she asked.

"I didn't know that the incident was common knowledge," Reed said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"It's not," she reassured, "but as I said before, I'm a special case." She paused for a second and smiled. "What else do you expect from the leader of Operation Dagger?"

Reed froze, a wave of nausea washing through him.

 _'Of all your luck, you manage to land yourself on a mission with the freaking leader of Operation Dagger. Typical'_

There were rumors about the leader of Operation Dagger. She was described as a bloodthirsty maniac. And that wasn't an exaggeration, she made all the other superiors look harmless. Reportedly, she had once killed an entire battalion because they had insulted her.

Just his luck.

"Well I told you my secret," she said, nonchalantly, "So now tell me yours. What are you hiding?"

"Viera, the White Wolves's bombs expert," he hesitated. "I was her friend."

The contact scoffed. "Wonderful. I have been kissing up to the White Wolves for weeks, while you have major connections with the group."

Reed couldn't tell if she was just annoyed or angry.

"Well the rest of the group hated me, but-"

"I don't care," she said, silencing him. "Tell me, what are you going to do?"

"I'm probably going to check out the Tavern tomorrow. See what I can find," Reed said.

"Good luck with that," she said, sarcastically.

Reed looked down at his book again. He wasn't sure about what he should say next. Maybe he shouldn't say anything at all.

The spy observed him for a moment before rolling her eyes. "You spies always look so terrified when you find out who I am. But I must give you some credit, most men would have begged for their lives by now. I must admit, you are different from what I expected."

Reed looked to the side. "What were you expecting?" he asked.

"Well, only a fool would pull a stunt like Parktown. So I figured you were either an arrogant fool or a coward." She twirled the pencil in her hand. "And I was certain that you would have complained about your orders. So either you are skilled at feigning confidence or you have conflicting morals. Maybe it's both. Maybe I'm completely wrong. But tell me, will you follow your orders?"

Reed looked solemnly at the ground.

"Rest assured that I will carry them out to the best of my ability," he said truthfully.

The spy smiled once more and looked up at the sky, "Don't think about it too much. Just act. Once you kill one child, everything else becomes easier. Before you know it, you will become insensitive to everything around you, the perfect soldier." She paused for a moment, dwelling on that concept. Then she tilted her head, refocusing. "Forgive me for all the questions, but I am curious. Do you regret what you did in Parktown?"

Reed was silent for a moment.

He had spent days agonising over this, wrestling over what had happened. What he could have done. What he shouldn't have done. He had analysed every detail he could, replayed every action, and considered every possibility.

In the end it didn't matter how much sleep he lost or what he did.

He could never shake the uncertainty.

"I really don't know."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Fun Fact: Reed's missing beard_

 _Normally I do not make plot or continuity errors. I usually catch those within my first few drafts._ _However one of them managed to slip through, but it's an amusing one, so I'll share it._

 _Last chapter "Reed" said the Wolves never gave him anything sharp. As a result he had long hair and had to get it cut. Now being female, I totally forgot that men grew beards. I would expect that as a military officer and being relatively young, the real Logan Reed was clean shaven. Also remember that for a second, Kani mistook "Reed" for Logan Reed, so I'm guessing that he must have shaved it before then._

 _I know that "Reed" did not shave it at the White Wolves camp since he and his hander left right away. I also know that he did not shave it when he reached the hotel in Parktown. "Reed" was much to shaken up to do anything useful._

 _I have thought of multiple explanations for this, each one is improbable in their own way._

 _The simplest explanation is that Reed and his handler shaved it on the train after they cut his hair. Although reasonable, I think shaving a beard in the cargo hold of a moving train would be pretty hard to do. The second explanation is that Reed hadn't started growing facial hair yet, but that is also unlikely. My personal favorite, although the most unreasonable, is that "Reed" started to grow a beard, but it was so damm awful that the White Wolves begged him to shave it off. However this breaks continuity (again) and it is unlikely that they would let him shave his beard, but not cut his hair._

 _Either way, the thought of my little baby faced Drachman spy with a full on beard makes me smile. I mean "Reed" was only 23, that would have been hella amusing._

 _The next chapter should come out sometime around the end of November. I have a holiday break around that time so hopefully I won't fall behind on writing_ _._


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note:_

 _Warning. There is some violence in this chapter. There isn't anything too extreme,_ _but a few people do get beat up/smacked around._

 _Reviews are always appreciated. No one I know watches FMA and none of my friends are into anime._ _So it is really nice to be able to share this story with you all and hear your feedback._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

It was shortly after dawn when a young man left the inn.

Despite his age, his eyes were framed by deep worrying lines. His jaw was tense, half clenched with stress. He had spent the past eight hours pacing around his room, plagued by unrelenting thoughts and anxieties. He advanced through the streets, oblivious to everything but the task at hand. He came to a halt at the end of an alley and concentrated on the building across from him.

The man who called himself Reed read the sign on the building. The words, _"The Shrunken Tavern"_ was painted in large red letters over the doors.

Reed walked up the front steps, cringing slightly as they creaked under his weight. He set his hand tentatively on the doorknob before pushing it open. Once inside, he took a breath, breathing in the faint smell of dust and alcohol. It seemed to be a decent establishment.

There was a single patron, slumped over a chair. He was snoring quite loudly. It looked like he had been there since the night before.

The bartender was the only other person in the room. He was a rather stout man, with a thick neck, and a bushy mustache. He stood at the bar, wiping down the counter in preparation for the day.

"Morning," the bartender said, "How may I help you?"

Reed walked toward him and took a seat.

"My friend said this place makes good drinks. So, I thought I would check it out," Reed said.

The bartender scoffed. "Bit early to be drinking."

"It has been a rough week," he said, feigning a smile.

The bartender shook his head. "Alright, what would you like?"

"Depends," Reed said. "I'm a bit indecisive at the moment."

"Well, what did you friend have?"

Reed looked him in the eye. "A Gin Fizz on the rocks."

The bartender's face went slack.

"What's it to you?" he asked.

Reed hoped that he wasn't making a mistake.

"Just here on a suggestion from a friend."

The bartender rolled his eyes and began to wipe down a bottle. "It's too public to talk out here. Step into the back. It's more private."

If Reed had been more awake, he would have insisted that they finish their conversation right where they were. Secluded meetings, although private, were excellent places to murder someone.

Nevertheless, as Reed approached the back room, he slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped his knife.

Behind him, he could hear the bartender's footsteps echoing off the floorboards. He concentrated on that, listening for changes in pace, anything that could signal an attack.

Reed had just barely gotten a glimpse of the backroom when he was suddenly tackled to the ground. He let out a grunt as the air was knocked out of him. Knees pressed into his back and his face was planted against the ground. Reed swung his knife wildly, but a second pair of hands wretched the knife from his grip.

Were there two of them?

Reed began to yell, but a dirty rag was pushed into his mouth. He gagged against the bitterness.

Despite the weight on him, he knew that this person was far too light to be the bartender. That meant he had two attackers: the bartender and this mystery person.

Getting out of this was going to be tough.

The person on top of him shifted, using their legs to pin Reed's arms to his side. Frantic, Reed attempted to throw them off. The person cursed. Despite the profanity, their voice sounded distinctively feminine. A woman perhaps?

Reed cringed as fingernails gripped his hair and rammed his head against the floor. The room swam around him. He stopped struggling, suddenly very dizzy.

"Who is this?" The woman asked.

The bartender stepped forward. He seemed to be standing somewhere to Reed's left.

"He's dressed like a construction worker, but he knew _the code_."

The woman grew tense.

"Check him for weapons," she said.

Reed cursed himself. It wouldn't take them long to find his gun. Just how was he going to explain that?

Sure enough, within moments the bartender pulled the weapon from Reed's belt.

"Found a gun," he said.

The woman cursed again. "We'll have to bind him. Pass me the rope," she said.

Reed turned his head towards her voice. Now that his head had stopped swimming, he could focus. He could be imagining it, but her voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Reed felt them pull his wrists together. He began to struggle again. It they managed to restrain him, it would only be harder to get free. Despite his efforts, Reed felt rope loop around his wrists. He formed his hands into fists and tried with all his might to throw the woman off his back. The woman swore and pushed his sleeves up, attempting to get a firm grip.

Then she stopped.

Her grip went slack. Reed started to struggle, but the bartender leaned forward and pinned his wrists down.

"What is it?" the bartender asked.

The woman didn't answer, but Reed felt her fingers trace his bracelet.

"Let him go," she said.

"What?" the man exclaimed. "Why-"

"Let him go," the woman demanded.

Suddenly, Reed felt the grip on his wrists disappear. A second later, the weight on his back was lifted as well.

Instantly, Reed tore the gag from his mouth. He coughed several times, the bitterness lingering. He dragged himself to his feet, briefly scanning the bartender before shifting his attention to his companion.

His eyes instantly went wide.

 _'No'_

How could he have not recognised her voice?

"Well, are you going to say hello or just keep gawking?" Viera teased.

Reed stood dumbstruck, trying to process the situation before him.

It was almost too good to be true.

"Viera," he managed to say, "It's good to see you again."

The bartender did not look amused. He glared at Reed.

"You two know each other?" he said.

Viera turned to face him, her expression suddenly cold.

"Don't you have a bar to run?" she said harshly.

"It's morning," the bartender said.

"Does it look like I care?" she said.

The bartender glanced at Reed, untrusting.

Viera rolled her eyes.

"He's an old friend, alright. Don't worry," she said. "We're just going to talk. No need for you to listen in."

The bartender scowled. For a second, it looked like he would refuse, but Viera stood her ground, unrelenting. After a moment, the bartender began to exit the room. He shot Reed a dirty look as he left, eyes full of scorn.

Reed watched the door shut behind him and turned his attention back to Viera.

She was taller than what he remembered. Her wavy dark brown hair seemed richer, her back straighter, shoulders wider. Even though she was still the same person, there was a distinctive change in her, and it seemed that the sparkle in her eye was brighter than ever.

"Well," Viera said, "So much for 'I'll never see you again,'"

Reed scratched his neck. "About that-"

"Oh, stop it," she said, "I'm sure you have a good reason for showing up."

"It's not that simple," Reed said vacantly.

Viera studied his expression. Despite her casualness, she was able to grasp the gravity of the situation. Her friend was a spy, that hadn't changed. He was here because someone ordered him to. Nothing more. She pursed her lips, no doubt taking in the stress and sorrow ingrained in his expression.

"You've had a rough time as well."

He nodded, knowing that her circumstances were just as unfavorable. She was part of a resistance group fighting against a powerful government. Like him, she had sold her soul for the cause, sacrificing everything she had for the fight.

He looked at her. Now that she was no longer smiling, he could see the stress clearly on her face.

They both had changed.

"Tell you what," Viera said, voice returning to its cheerful tone. "Let's eat first. Then once we've perked up a bit, then we can share our grievances."

Reed looked up at her and traced his bracelet.

His chest swelled with a long forgotten warmth and he found himself smiling.

There was a small stove in the back of the room, half hidden by a wall of crates and boxes. Viera quickly turned it on and set a pan over the flame. She found some sausages and plopped half a dozen onto the pan. Then she began to rummage through nearby crates.

"Do you want a peach?" she asked, holding up one.

"Yes please," Reed said. Desperate to get the foul taste of the rag out of his mouth.

Viera tossed him one, before fetching another for herself.

"Do you know what my favorite part of Ukon is?" She asked, taking bite. "The fresh food. I swear I am never touching another can."

"It wasn't that bad," he said.

"Yes it was," she said. "It was the worst thing about being in that forest."

Reed raised an eyebrow. "Even worse than the mosquitos?"

Viera scowled. "Now that's a tough call."

"Thought so."

Viera fell silent, chomping down on the remainder of her fruit, and turning her attention back to the pan.

Reed took another slow bite of his peach.

"So how are the Wolves?" he asked.

Viera didn't answer him. She had found a carton of eggs and plopped a few onto the pan as well.

"The same," she said, cryptically. "Forget about me for a second. How have you been?"

He shrugged. "Things have been alright. Mediocre, I guess."

"Mediocre? You're a Drachman spy. I would think your life would be more lively," Viera teased.

Reed did a double take.

"Drachma?" he paused, "I never told you where I was from."

Viera shook her head. "You didn't, but Amber sure can run her mouth."

"Amber?"

"That's the name of the new contact. Or at least that's what she said it was," she said.

Reed doubted that "Amber" was her real name. Drachman spies always went by aliases.

"So what super secret spy missions have you been up to?" Viera asked.

Reed swallowed. He didn't want to talk about that.

"Tell me about the Wolves first," he said.

Viera looked at him and sighed.

"I might as well get this over with." She poked at the pan. "If you don't know by now, our former leader is dead."

"What?" Reed gasped, "What happened?"

"We're not sure. It could have been murder, an accident, or just an illness. It really doesn't matter." She turned off the stove. "We lost a damn good leader."

She reached for some plates.

"The former second in command and I, have taken over. To say that things have been hard would be an understatement. It seems that everyone has a different idea on how to proceed. Some think we should have more violence. Others think we should have more passive resistance. While some believe we should try to petition and reason with the military. And still others believe they would never listen to us. It'll all a nice wonderful mess," she said.

"And what do you think?" Reed asked.

"My personal beliefs don't matter that much," Viera said, "I will do whatever is necessary to protect the Wolves."

Reed looked down, contemplating what she said.

"So," Viera said as she began to scoop the food onto the plates, "I spilled my junk. Now it's your turn."

Might as well get it over with.

"Over the past two years I have been ordered to impersonate an Amestrian soldier." Viera looked up at him, but he avoided her gaze. "My current mission," he paused again. "The military has sent me, along with an intelligence team, to investigate the White Wolves."

He looked up.

Viera was staring at him, dumbstruck. The plate in her hand was slipping from her grip, its contents threatening to fall on the floor.

Reed stepped forward to straighten her plate.

Viera blinked, coming to her senses.

"An intel team? Do they know-" she said.

"I haven't said anything," Reed said. "We haven't been able to find out much. Our major breakthrough has been that group of vandals."

"Those kids?" Vera said. "Oh, they're nothing to worry about. We're only using them as a pawns while we prepare for our real plan."

"May I ask what that is?" Reed said.

Viera looked at him. "Depends, which side are you on?"

On reflex, Reed fell silent. However, he begun to realize that the answer was quite simple. Even if it hadn't been, he had no desire to lie. Viera was his friend.

"My first obligation is to Drachma," Reed said, truthfully, "The Amestrian military is our shared enemy, so I do whatever is necessary to help you succeed in your plans."

Viera nodded, understanding. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Or something like that."

She smiled and handed him his plate.

"Tell me about this intelligence team," she said.

"The team has only been in Ukon for five days. There are four people counting myself: Colonel Mustang, his Lieutenant, and the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Viera furrowed his brow. "Colonel Mustang? Why is someone of his rank on an intelligence mission?"

"He claimed it's because he's a State Alchemist, but I doubt it. My best guess is that it has something to do with Edward Elric, but I haven't been able to prove anything."

"Edward Elric," Viera said. "That name sounds familiar."

"He is pretty popular in the East," Reed said.

"No, I feel like someone was telling me about him," she shook her head, "I'll probably remember it later."

She began to shove an entire egg into her mouth.

"Tell me everything that the team has found out so far."

"It's really not that much," Reed said. "They have been sent to find out how many people are associated with the Wolves and to analyze their defensive capabilities. However so far they have not been able to identify a single member of the Wolves, let alone weapon storages or hideouts. As I said before, the major breakthrough has been the kid gang. The current plan has been to watch the kids and see if they let anything slip."

"And have they?"

"Ed managed to overhear a conversation. Two of the kids seemed to be discussing meeting with some of your members."

"What were their names?" Viera asked.

"Paul and Meg."

"Meg," Viera said. "That may be a problem."

"You know her?" Reed said.

"I know her father. He used to be a members, but he left after the former leader died. I'm not sure just how much Meg knows, but if the intel team closes in on her, they might be in for a breakthrough."

"We should feed them some misinformation then. Distract them and focus their attention on something else."

Viera nodded. "I'll probably order the vandals to do some weird jobs. Stakeout an empty building, collect some blueprints, tail random people, just enough to distract the intel team."

She paused as she began to shovel down on her food, eating at quite an astonishing rate.

Reed took a small bite of sausage, relishing in the flavor.

"You should take smaller bites," Reed said, "You don't want to choke."

"Eggs have a minimal choke hazard," Viera said, as she shoved another in her mouth. "And cut me some slack, I haven't eaten since yesterday's breakfast."

"It's not healthy to go hungry," Reed teased.

Viera took a big bite from her sausage and rolled her eyes. "As if you're one to talk. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I've been busy," Reed said.

"Same here," Viera teased, "So why don't we both cut each other some slack and finish eating."

Reed smiled and chewed on his food.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Viera had finished her plate.

"So what were you doing that required so much of your attention," he said, setting his half eaten plate to the side.

"I was preparing for something," Viera said.

"Care to elaborate?"

"It's really something that you have to see for yourself." She smiled, eyes sparkling. "Tell you what, come by the forest this evening and I'll show you."

"You serious?" Reed said.

"Of course I am. You know where the old cliffs are right?"

"Hard to forget."

"Well, do you remember that cave on the base of the cliffs?"

"How could I? You practically shoved me in there that one time everyone was mad at me."

"Hey, it was your fault for dropping that wasp nest."

"That was an accident."

"So you say," Viera said. "Anyway, meet me by that cave, maybe 6 o'clock. I'll explain everything then."

"Alright," Reed said.

Viera smiled and reached out to take his plate. "You barely ate a thing."

"Hey, I have to go back to the inn and eat another breakfast there," Reed said, "People will be suspicious if I don't."

"So," Viera said, as she began to eat his leftovers, "More food."

Reed shook his head. "How are you still eating?"

"I'm hungry," Viera said defensively.

Reed rolled his eyes playfully, the tension easing him his shoulders, and a genuine smile spreading across his face.

After years of loneliness, suddenly he didn't feel so alone.

* * *

Ed tapped his foot against the floor, trying to think of a more useless way to spend his evening.

For the past fifteen minutes he had been forced to listen to the vandals drone on about their upcoming plans. Seriously, it did not take that long to go over the construction site's security. However Paul seemed determined to scrutinize every single detail. He wanted to make sure there were no drawbacks, no surprises, and that little to nothing could go wrong.

It was almost as if he was scared of something.

Ed gritted his teeth, suddenly very aware of his aching ribs. But he shook it off, glancing around the room once more.

Paul was standing next to the table. The kids had clustered around him, gazing at the papers in his hands.

Meanwhile, Meg was standing towards the back, right next to Ed. She seemed to be as bored as he was, glancing at her watch every few minutes. At first Ed thought that she was just desperate to leave, now he was starting to get curious. What was Meg waiting for?

As if on cue, Paul began to speak.

"That should be enough for today," he said, putting the papers away.

The kids looked around, confused.

"But we haven't-"

"This evening I have something very important to take care of, so we'll discuss it tomorrow," Paul said, moving towards the door, "This meeting is dismissed."

He stepped through the doorway and disappeared onto the streets.

Ed stood still for a moment, surprised at the sudden shift in conversation. Beside him, Meg scoffed.

"He made it sound so serious," she said.

Ed looked at her. Meg was smiling softly, amused at Paul's words.

"What do you mean?"

Meg briefly glanced around to see if anyone was listening in.

"Well, the 'important' event he was talking about," she said, a mischievous grin on her face, "His mom is dragging him out for a haircut."

Ed held back a snort.

"Really?"

"Yup," Meg said. "The way he said it you would think he was going to an award ceremony or something."

She stepped towards the door and Ed followed her. He still had time before he was supposed to report back. If Paul wasn't doing anything noteworthy, then he might as well hang out with Meg.

"Have you seen the forest yet?" she asked as they causally walked down a road.

Ed nodded. "We walked through it on the way here."

"You're lucky. The forest is so beautiful this time of year." She tilted her head, thinking. "You know, there are these white and blue flowers that bloom around this time. Did you happen to see any?"

Ed shook his head. "I don't really remember," he said.

"That's alright," she said, "I was actually going to collect some for a bouquet. Would you like to come with me? They bloom right on the edge of the forest."

"Okay," Ed said.

They kept up a casual conversation as they walked to the town's edge. At first, it was just as calming and natural as it had been. However Ed could not deny the uneasiness that was slowly growing within him.

Something was wrong.

He scanned his eyes back and forth, looking for anything strange.

There was more people about than one would expect. However they weren't doing anything suspicious. One man was standing at a street corner, smoking a cigarette. A woman was washing her windows. Another person was sitting on a chair, reading a newspaper. They seemed awfully ordinary. However there was something about them, Ed began to realize, that was troublesome.

It was only when he managed to make eye contact with one, only for them to immediately look away, did Ed realise what was going on.

These people were watching them.

It was very subtle, a chance glance here, a lingering gaze there, but it was too frequent to be a coincidence.

Meg seemed to notice too.

She hadn't said anything, but she had picked up her pace and was steering them down the streets with the least amount of people.

Ed wondered why they were attracting this attention. Was it their mere presence or was it something else?

They turned into a deserted alley, intending to cut between two streets. They were halfway through when a group of people seemingly walked right out of the shadows. Ed was startled for a moment, surprised at their sudden appearance.

Where had they come from?

A chill ran down Ed's spine and he spun around, only to find the exit blocked off by another group of people.

Damn it.

There were six people in front and five people behind them. They were sneering, eyes glued on Meg.

Ed glanced at her. For a second, there was a look of pure terror on her face. Her mouth was agape and her hands were trembling. Then she shook her head, regaining herself. Her initial expression was quickly masked with a cold glare. At her sides, her hands formed into fists.

Ed had the sudden feeling that she had dealt with these people before.

Around them, the group began to close in. A few cracked their knuckles.

Ed cursed himself. Even if these people weren't accustomed to fighting, their sheer numbers would be a challenge, and without alchemy, Ed doubted that he would be able to fight them head on.

One of them looked Ed in the eye, "Beat it, kid. We have no business with you."

Meg turned to face him.

"Go," she said, her voice wavering, "I'll be fine."

Ed shook his head. He had no intention of leaving her here alone.

"What do you guys want?" Ed asked, addressing the crowd.

"None of your business," one said, "Now scram."

Meg reached out a grabbed his wrist.

"Please go," she said, "You don't need to get involved with this. Please."

Ed stood his ground.

One of them, a tall man with a beard, moved towards the front of the crowd.

"Meg, since when did you hang out with construction workers?" he said, clicking his tongue, "It's so unlike you to pick such poor company."

Meg's grip on Ed's wrist tightened and she gave him a pleading look.

Ed pulled his wrist from her grasp and stepped forward.

"Can we help you with something?" he asked.

"Excuse me," the bearded man said.

"Well you did corner us here, so I thought you must want something," Ed said, looking him in the eye.

The bearded man feigned a smile. "Look, this does not concern you. You should leave while you still can."

"And if I don't?"

The bearded man narrowed his eyes. "Meg, perhaps we should walk you home. If you are starting to hang around scum like these, then who knows what else you're into." His eyes glistened. "And perhaps it's also time we paid a visit to your father."

Meg snapped to face him, her eyes wide in terror. The group chuckled in response. Another man stepped forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. Meg stiffened.

"You better behave now," he whispered in her ear.

Anger welled in Ed's stomach.

"Let go of her," he growled.

The group laughed again.

"Why?" the man said, running his hands down her arms, "What are you going to do to stop me?"

"Listen boy," the bearded man said, "You're only trying to look out for your friend. I get it. But sometimes things are a bit more complicated than that, sometimes it's best to look after yourself. Now look around. You're surrounded. Luckily for you, we don't have anything against you. We're only here to teach Meg and her father a lesson. And unless you want to learn that lesson too, I suggest you leave. Now."

Ed looked him in the eye. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Well you're a cocky one," the bearded man said, "Oh well."

Suddenly, arms clapped around his waist and he was lifted into the air, arms and legs flailing.

The group hooted, bloodlust in their eyes.

"Let him go!" Meg screeched. She stepped forward to intervene, but was knocked to the ground.

The bearded man causally looked at her. "Try not to hurt her too much. She's a vital contact to the vandals." He turned back to Ed. "This one on the other hand-" Ed gasped as the man's fist crashed into his abdomen. The arm around him slacked and he fell to the ground. "I was going to ignore you, but now you've pissed me off."

Ed glanced up, looking the bearded man in the eyes. Three weeks ago, he would have stood up and punched the man in the face. Three weeks ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. But that was three weeks ago, and this was now. As much as he hated to admit it, Ed was injured, both physically and mentally.

A foot crashed into his abdomen.

Ed shrieked.

The pain in his chest was nauseating, almost unbearable. Somewhere behind him he was dimly aware of Meg screaming, but his mind was too muddled to stand up, let alone help her. He closed his eyes tight and tried to block out the sound. Another foot crashed into his back and he stifled a scream. His head felt light, dizzy, as if he was about to pass out. He couldn't tell if it was because he was hyperventilating or just the pain. Maybe it was both.

Hands lifted and heaved him up to his knees. He opened his eyes to find himself face to face with the bearded man. He was smiling, a sickening look of satisfaction on his face.

"See boy, this is what happens when you cross us," the bearded man said, raising his fist.

Ed couldn't help it, he found himself shrinking back, unable to stop the trembling in his hands. His breath hitched in his chest and he found himself wishing, begging, that whatever they did, they wouldn't hit him in the ribs.

So naturally, the gunshot startled him too.

His eyes went wide as the sound echoed through the alley.

Did they shoot Meg?

Were they going to shoot him too?

But the jeering had stopped, and no one was hitting him anymore.

What was going on?

Cautiously, Ed turned and looked in the direction of the noise.

A woman was standing at the end of the alley, smoking gun in hand.

He studied her for a moment. Eyes scanning several times, trying to find something distinguishing, something to identify her by. He stared for several seconds before he realized that he hadn't taken in one detail. His mind was still too frazzled to process anything. He looked over her again, finally focusing on her wavy dark brown hair. He was certain that he had never seen her before.

Ed looked to the group surrounding them. They were certainly less confident now. They had all froze, eyes wide, and mouths agape slightly.

One might even say they looked scared.

The woman walked towards them, gun raised. Her eyes scanned them, no doubt assessing the situation.

She turned to face the bearded man. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Look. We were only teaching Meg and her friend a lesson. We didn't-"

"Meg," the woman said, interrupting him, "Tell me what happened here."

"We were just going out for a walk, when we were cornered," Meg said, "They threatened us and when we tried to stand up for ourselves, they attacked us."

The woman faced the bearded man, a dangerous look in her eye.

"So, once again, you let your impulses get the better of you."

"Viera, we were just-"

"Save it!" the woman spat.

The bearded man fell silent, eyeing her with cold hatred.

"Meg," she said, "take your friend and go."

Meg didn't need to be told twice, she pulled herself from the ground and grasped Ed's arm, pulling him upright. As they turned to leave, the woman suddenly grasped Meg's arm.

"Make sure, he stays quiet about this," she said, her eyes resting on Ed.

Meg nodded.

The second the woman released her, Meg tightened her grip on Ed's wrist and together they bolted down the alley. They kept running, racing through the streets. A few people raised their eyebrows as they passed, but they didn't stop. Not when Ed stumbled over a curb and not when Meg almost ran into a wall. They sprinted, gasping, chests heaving, adrenaline coursing through their veins, as the world passed in a blur around them. Further and further, until they feet ached and their legs were weak and wobbly. Together they slowed to a stop and collapsed against a wall.

Ed leaned against the cool bricks, legs giving out beneath him. His entire chest was burning now, an aching pain resonating through his bones. Closing his eyes, he brought his knees to his chest and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Are you alright?" Meg asked, her voice sounding oddly far off.

Ed's heart was pounding his chest. He was shaking, sweat dripping off his brow. He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to say.

Meg rested her hand on his forehead.

"You're burning up," she said.

Ed shivered.

No. It couldn't be fever. Fever meant infection and infection meant-

"Maybe you should take off your hat and gloves," she said, "It'll help you cool down."

Ed shook his head frantically, taking a shaky breath as tears gathering in his eyes. He couldn't respond. He couldn't say anything. It was as if he was trapped, unable to move, like something was pressing down on him, knocking the air from his lungs. He felt small, alone, and so very afraid.

He rested his forehead on his knees and let out a shaky sob.

"I need to take off your hat and gloves," Meg said, "Please, it'll help you cool down."

She reached over and lifted his hat from his head. Then she pulled off his gloves. Both of them.

Ed looked up at her through glassy eyes.

If Meg was surprised, she didn't show it. She simply reached for his wrist, checking his pulse.

"Try to take deep breaths. Inhale and exhale slowly." she said.

Ed focused on her voice, breathing deeply until he could feel his heart begin to slow down, and the moment finally passed.

Meg released his wrist and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"Do you feel alright now?" she asked.

Ed nodded.

"I'm fine," he said, faintly.

Meg looked into his eyes.

"Have you ever had an anxiety attack like that before?" she asked.

Ed shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Just who were those people?" he said, changing the subject.

Meg looked away.

"Were they part of the White Wolves?" he asked.

Meg closed her eyes and then nodded.

"It's complicated..." she said, trailing off, "Some of the Wolves can be very temperamental. It's best to avoid them."

Ed nodded. Briefly, he thought of pressing for more information, but he dismissed it. They had dealt with enough today. He simply pulled his gloves back on. He then began to fit his hair back into his hat.

"I'm sorry," Meg said.

"What for?"

"This evening," she said.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You couldn't have known that those people would come after us," Ed said.

Meg was silent.

He continued. "and even if you did, it still wouldn't be your fault. You aren't responsible for other people's actions."

Meg looked away. "We should get going."

They said nothing as they walked through the streets, slowly making their way to the center of town. Together, they came to a stop at a street corner, watching as people walked past.

"It's best if you head straight back to the inn. Just in case," Meg said, looking down, "Tomorrow, there's going to be a meeting to finish going over our plan. Will you be there?"

"Sure thing," Ed said.

"Well then, I'll see you tomorrow," Meg said, stepping forward into the street.

"Bye," Ed said, watching as she disappeared into the crowd.

The moment she was gone, Ed turned around and began to walk back to the northern part of town.

Deep down he knew that he was making a mistake, that he should probably just report back and return to the inn. In truth he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed, wrap the covers around him, and drift off into sleep. To escape the world, if only for a few hours.

But Mustang would be at the inn, and he would certainly notice that something was wrong.

Ed gritted his teeth. In a way he hated how much Mustang cared, hated how he treated him like a child, as if he didn't know any better.

It was infuriating.

Had Mustang forgotten all he had been through? That even though he was dragged to hell and back, over and over, he still managed to get up every time.

He did it because he was strong, because he could. Because there was no one else he could rely on, no one left to be weak around.

That had died with his mother.

Ed gripped his collar, his ribs aching. They were just physical wounds. Why couldn't they heal?

The doctor had warned him about this. One night at the hospital after Al had gone out for a walk, the doctor had slipped into Ed's room to talk to him. He warned him that he might have some psychological effects from his ordeal. That he might feel off for a few weeks before things went back to normal, if things went back to normal.

Ed had brushed him off. He had endured losing two limbs. He could endure some battle wounds.

Right?

Ed shook his head, he needed to focus.

According to Meg, the group they had run into were part of the White Wolves. If that was true, then it was likely that that woman, Viera, was someone important. Ed made a mental note to find out more about her later.

He then refocused his attention on Meg. More importantly, why did Meg want to go to the edge of the forest?

She claimed that she wanted flowers for a bouquet, but the more Ed thought about it, the less it made sense. Firstly, he didn't remember seeing any white and blue flowers walking into Ukon. Secondly, she had told that woman that they had been out on a walk. And based on her reactions, it was as if she already knew what might happen and had accepted the dangers. So then, why would she still do it?

What could be that important?

From the conversation he had overheard between Meg and Paul, Meg wanted to visit the White Wolves's headquarters, however Paul had been cautious, practically begging her to reconsider. In hindsight, it was awfully convenient that the one day Paul was busy, Meg would suddenly decide to visit the forest.

That made it extremely likely that there was something important in that forest, something Meg was desperate to see.

As Ed continued down the street, he briefly considered getting backup. After all, searching the forest was both dangerous and required manpower.

However both Hawkeye and Reed were busy gathering intelligence. Even if he did manage to find them, he didn't trust either of them to not tell Mustang. And he was certain that Mustang would never allow him to go into the forest, even if it was the most logical option.

It was humiliating. To be treated as if he was weak, like he would break open at any moment.

Ed didn't want Mustang's pity. He didn't need anything from that man. He could do it all alone. Without anyone's help.

A grin crossed over his face.

Yes, he could do it all alone. He could search the forest and find out what the White Wolves were hiding.

Then he would prove to them, all of them, just what he was capable of.

This was his chance to redeem himself.

Ed began to walk faster, in the direction of the forest. Fully intending to search it alone.

* * *

Reed walked through the forest, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

He was following a trail that ran alongside the cliff. Few Wolves used this particular route, instead opting to use the hidden path that lead directly to the main camp. So Reed doubted he would run into anyone.

He turned from the path and began to walk deep into the forest, eyes scanning for someplace secluded. It was almost 5 o'clock. That meant he had an hour to himself. Plenty of time to clear his head.

Back in Drachma, the snow covered trees and pristine mountains always eased his mind. But this forest was different, it felt different, smelt different, and there was too much green and not enough white.

In reality, Reed knew he had no business being here. It was foolish really. Stupid to think that his mind would ever stop running and that pressure on his chest would ever lift. He was merely chasing old childhood nostalgia, trying to grasp what was already lost.

It was pointless.

Yet still, he found himself drawn here. And perhaps if he just closed his eyes, it might feel real. Even for just a second.

Reed sat down on a patch of clovers, running his hands through the foliage.

He had meant what he told Viera.

He was fully willing to aid the White Wolves in their plans, whatever they may be.

There were plenty of reasons behind this decision. In fact, it was the most logical decision to make. However Reed couldn't deny that he had a deeper, more personal reason for deciding this.

He didn't want Viera to die.

She was his friend, this morning had proved that. Sure she teased him for being a spy, but she never judged him for it. She accepted him for the person he was. And when he stood next to her, he felt a glimmer of light within himself. As if all was not lost.

Yes, he would help Viera.

That decision felt right.

However despite his certainness, there was one thing weighting him down. One doubt that continued to taunt him, unceasing.

Amber's question.

Did he regret what he did during the Parktown Incident?

Right now, he felt very close to regretting it.

And right now he couldn't be more disgusted with himself.

Why?

Even if he could ignore everything: his Drachman orders, his place in the Amestrian military, even the fact that his family might be dead because of him. Would he have done something different?

Most importantly, why was he still dwelling on this? The incident had been processed and filed away, the weapons cleaned, the bodies buried, everyone else had moved on, so why couldn't he?

What was he missing?

Even if he did find out what, if he identified why that incident still struck him to his core.

Would it really make a difference?

 _'You know the answer to that question.'_

Reed was silent for a long time, staring blankly into the trees.

Then, he tilted his head back and gazed into the blue sky.

No matter where he went, the color of the sky never changed. That one detail had never been taken from him.

Slowly, he laid back against the clovers.

One more time.

He needed to relive it one more time.

And maybe this time, he will find what he missed.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _I think it's pretty obvious that the next chapter is going to deal with the Parktown Incident. I need to get that out of the way before Reed's character arc can make any major headway. I am very excited for the next couple of chapters. Pretty soon all these plot points will be converging and it is going to be wonderful and horrible at the same time._

 _I cannot say for certain when the next update will be. So far my rough estimates have been really off. However if I had to guess I would say maybe late April. For more exact updates check my profile as I update that regularly._

 _Fun Fact:_

 _Reed and the entire Operation Dagger could have easily originated from Aerugo. However I chose Drachma instead_ _because I cannot easily spell or say "Aerugo."_


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note:_

 _This chapter is way overdue. It is also_ _way longer than I intended it to be. In fact it's practically a mini story on it's own. If it was any other chapter, I would have split it into two parts, but being a_ _flashback, I wanted to post it all at once._

 _The format is also a little different. To be clear it jumps between Reed's mission debriefing (italics) and the actual Parktown Incident (regular font)._

 _This chapter does have some action violence in it._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

 _In one of Eastern Command's many interrogation rooms, two officers sat across from each other._

 _The younger one pulled at his bloodstained sleeves. He had just barely acknowledged his companion, choosing instead to stare blankly at the metal table before him._

 _The other officer hadn't commented on this behavior. He was sitting contently in his chair, back straight, and hands folded on the table before him. One would assume that he was indifferent, mind focused on the task at hand. However, those who knew him would recognize that there was some sort of spark in his eyes, as if something had awoken his interest. It was for this reason, which he began to speak, not with harsh words of reprimand, but with a tone of sincerity._

 _"I will remind you that this is simply a mission debriefing. You are not in any trouble," the man reassured, twirling a pen in his hand, "However it is in your best interest that you answer each question as honestly as you can. Do you understand?"_

 _Across from him, Lieutenant Reed resisted the urge to scoff. He knew the Colonel didn't mean a word he said. It was likely just a ruse to draw him into a false sense of security. In the end, Reed knew he had to face the facts. After all, if there was truly nothing to worry about, then they wouldn't be having this conversation in an interrogation room._

 _"I understand," Reed said, words catching in his throat._

 _"Alright," Colonel Mustang said, flipping through the file before him. "Why don't you start with the beginning?"_

 _Reed nodded, attempting to meet the Colonel's eyes._

 _"Yesterday, General Hayes assigned Sergeant Davis and I to a new mission," Reed said._

 _"And what was that mission?" Mustang asked, taking a few notes._

 _"We were to transfer a prisoner from the Parktown prison to a prison in East City," Reed said._

 _Mustang consulted the papers before him. "According to the mission report General Hayes requested that you drive an armored truck to Parktown."_

 _"Yes," Reed said. "I was the one driving it."_

 _"Did you notice anything unusual on your drive down?" Mustang asked._

 _Reed rubbed his wrist._

 _"I noticed some things that were a bit odd, but nothing that I would describe as unusual," Reed said._

 _Mustang looked him in the eye. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"_

* * *

Reed flinched as a leaf flew into his face. He cringed, but kept his hands steady, trying to avoid swerving the truck.

"Can you roll that window up?" he said.

"We've been in this stuffy truck for an hour. It's hot. I need air," Lynn Davis said.

"We've arriving in Parktown in half an hour. Can it wait?" he said.

Lynn pulled at her collar.

"I'm sweating through my uniform. No, it can't," she asked.

"Fine, but at least roll it up halfway," he said.

Lynn scowled but did as he said.

"You know, I actually thought that this might be fun. You're always so quiet, I thought for sure you'd have something interesting to say," she said.

Reed spared the Sergeant a glance.

"What would you like to know?" he asked.

"I don't know. Anything?" she said. "I mean, we both work together, but we never talk."

Reed stared at the windy road before him. He turned the wheel, bringing them around a curve. She was right. Come to think of it, he couldn't think of one time where they'd discussed something other than work.

Sergeant Lynn Davis had joined General Hayes's team about a year ago. From what Reed observed, she was kind, studious, and loyal; never failing to make friends. And though he would never admit it, of all the people in the office, Reed felt the most comfortable around her.

"So what do you think about this mission?" he asked.

"I mean talk about something other than work," she said.

Reed pursed his lips.

"I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about this," he said.

"What do you mean? We're just picking up a prisoner," she said.

"Yeah, but we are bypassing the trains," he said.

"But that can be for a variety of reasons. Maybe the prisoner is dangerous. Maybe they don't want to put civilians in danger," she said.

"East City and Parktown are only one train stop away. Plus, this road runs along a ravine, making it windy and hazardous. Why choose an hour and a half drive over a 20 minute train ride? Furthermore, if it is so dangerous, then why only send two officers?" he said.

Lynn fell silent.

"I hadn't thought about that," she said. "So what do you think is going to happen?"

Reed shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh come on, you have to have some sort of theory," she said.

Reed shook his head.

"I honestly don't know," he said, "That's what makes it weird."

* * *

 _"So at that moment, you shared your suspicions with Sergeant Davis?" Mustang said._

 _"That is correct," Reed answered._

 _"And did you continue to do this for the entire mission," Mustang said._

 _"No, sir," Reed said._

 _"Why?" Mustang asked._

 _Reed was silent for a moment._

 _"After we arrived in Parktown it became clear that we hadn't been properly briefed. I chose not to share my suspicions because I wasn't entirely sure on what was going on myself," he said._

 _"So what happened when you arrived in Parktown?" Mustang asked._

* * *

Reed gripped the steering wheel as they entered Parktown. His heart hammered in his chest and he took a shaky breath. It was just a routine mission. Nothing bad was going to happen.

 _'Have you forgotten what you did?'_

 _'You can still smell the blood.'_

Reed swallowed.

"Hey, you okay?" Lynn asked.

"I'm fine."

"You sure about that? You look a bit pale," she said, staring at his hands.

He looked down, realizing with silent horror that his knuckles were turning white. He loosened his grip.

"It's nothing," he said, smiling halfheartedly, "I'm just sick of driving this truck."

Lynn's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned away, shaking her head.

"I told you it was too hot," she teased.

Reed kept his eyes on the road, silence falling between them once more.

The prison was located on its own block. Tall white walls surrounded the entire complex, forming a secure barrier.

Upon entry, they were greeted by a few military officers.

"I am Lieutenant Logan Reed and this is Sergeant Lynn Davis. We're here on account of a prison transfer," he said, handing them the official request.

"Greetings, I am Corporal Smith," one officer said, taking the file in his hands. He read the first line. "I'm sorry, but I cannot accept this."

"What do you mean?" Lynn asked.

"As we informed your General, the Warden has denied the transfer," the Corporal said.

Reed and Davis exchanged glances. This was news to them.

"Are you not aware of this?" the Corporal asked, glancing between them.

"No, we weren't," Reed said. "On what grounds has the Warden dismissed the transfer?"

The Corporal looked at them.

"Perhaps you should speak to the Warden about this," Smith said.

The Corporal led them into the prison. Reed let his eyes scan back and forth, looking for anything unusual. The only thing of note was that the prison was exceptionally tidy. The floor was so clean that it squeaked under their boots.

They stopped in front of the Warden's office. Smith knocked twice before entering.

The Warden was a middle-aged woman with graying hair. She stood up from her desk as they entered.

"This is Lieutenant Reed and Sergeant Davis," Smith said, "They're here on account of the prison transfer. However they appear to have no knowledge of your most recent report."

The woman eyed them warily.

"You are excused, Corporal," she said.

Smith left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Please, have a seat," the Warden said, gesturing to the chairs before her desk.

Reed and Lynn sat down.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Warden Morris," she said.

"Pleased to meet you," Reed said.

The Warden flipped through some of the files on her desk.

"Tell me, what has General informed you about the prisoner?" she asked.

"We were told that he had been arrested seven days ago, under suspicion of being connected to a local terrorist group. He is a man of about 40 years of age. Name unknown."

The Warden nodded. "Yes, all of that information was in the initial arrest report. However since sending that report, we have observed that the prisoner has remained unusually calm and aloof. He refuses to answer all questions, instead asking random ones of his own. I have found this to be highly unusual, so I requested to General Hayes that the transfer be postponed until the interrogations have been completed." She looked them in the eye. "And I intend to do that."

"Not answering questions?" Lynn asked. "But shouldn't that behavior be expected?"

The Warden folded her hands. "It's more than that. There's something about his personality. I feel that he is extremely dangerous and I would rather not have him leave Parktown until I know more."

Lynn cast a side-glance at Reed.

Although, he didn't return her gaze, he knew she had realized the same thing.

The Warden was letting her own feelings enter the investigation. She was personally invested in this case.

 _'And you never get personally invested in cases.'_

The Warden pulled a file from her desk and handed it to them.

"This is the official transfer denial. We sent this to General Hayes three days ago."

"And what was the General's response?" Lynn asked.

"There wasn't one," the Warden said.

* * *

 _"At that moment, what were you thinking?" Mustang asked._

 _"I was confused," Reed said. "I didn't know what exactly was going on."_

 _"What did you think was happening?" Mustang asked._

 _"It was possible that this was all a misunderstanding. That the Warden's report had just gotten misplaced somehow. It was also likely that the Warden had never sent a report to the General. She could have been lying to us so that she could continue leading the investigation herself. However it was also plausible that General Hayes had not informed us on purpose. Bottom line was that there were a number of things that could've been going on. At the moment, I lacked sufficient information to make an informed decision. And until I contacted the General and asked him about the Warden's report, I had no way to know the truth."_

 _"And did you contact the General?" Mustang asked._

 _"No sir," Reed said._

 _Mustang looked at him. "You are aware that many would view that as insubordination."_

 _"Yes, sir. I am fully aware of the consequences," Reed said._

 _"So why did you do it?" Mustang said._

 _"I wanted to sit in on an interrogation with the prisoner first," Reed said._

 _"Why?"_

 _To Reed, the answer was obvious. He had been crosschecking information. It allowed him to see firsthand if what the Warden said lined up with the prisoner's actual behavior. If the Warden was in fact letting her feelings guide her decision-making, she might've been exaggerating. Furthermore, it was a way to see how willing the Warden would work with them. And in the end, if he did have to haul the prisoner back, with or without the Warden's consent, no one could say that he hadn't done anything to help._

 _But he couldn't just say that._

 _That would have been what a spy would have done, not an Amestrian solider._

 _So instead, Reed decided to focus on another issue._

 _"I did not want to confront General Hayes without properly informing myself of the situation," he said._

 _The moment the words left his lips, Reed felt his stomach twist. For all he knew the General could be dead, yet here he was using him to avoid suspicion._

 _Mustang tilted his head._

 _"And why would you do that?"_

 _Reed's throat constricted and he fought hard to speak._

 _"This wasn't the first time things like this had happened."_

 _Mustang raised an eyebrow._

 _"You mean to say that there were other incidents like this?"_

 _Reed nodded. "The General is a proud man. He never explains more than he has to."_

 _"And how has this affected your previous missions?"_

 _"Well, I typically just accepted it."_

 _"So what was different this time?"_

 _Reed looked down. "I don't know."_

 _Mustang didn't comment, but Reed knew that he didn't believe him._

 _The thing was both officers knew the real answer and it hung before them in the heavy air._

 _It's because Reed was personally invested as well._

 _Mustang looked down at the file._

 _"So what happened when you interrogated the prisoner?"_

* * *

Reed followed Corporal Smith into the interrogation room, moving to stand next to the door. He let his eyes waver to the one-way mirror adjacent to him. Sergeant Davis had passed on the offer to be in the interrogation room, instead choosing to remain safely behind the glass.

The prisoner was already there, sitting across from the Corporal, and watching him intently.

Reed had met prisoners before. Both Amestris and Drachma were just as brutal in how they treated their prisoners. A man with connections to a terrorist group would likely be facing a firing squad by the end of the week.

In this circumstance, a prisoner would've had that fact bearing down on them. Head hung low, crestfallen eyes; he would be gazing numbly at the world around him, knowing his days were numbered.

But not this man.

He was leaning back in his chair, shackled hands folded elegantly on the table in front of him. His expression was impassive, almost indifferent. However there was something about the way he sat, about the way his chin was slightly raised. A fire was burning in his eyes, not yet diminished by the grey walls. Had he not been wearing a prisoner uniform, Reed would have mistaken him as the guard.

 _'Intriguing.'_

Smith opened the file in front of him.

"As I said before, I am Corporal Smith and I will be conducting your interrogation today," he said. "Would you mind telling me your name?"

The prisoner said nothing.

The Corporal continued. "Do you understand why you were arrested?"

Still nothing.

"Do you understand the charges against you?"

The prisoner didn't answer. However he turned his head, looking at Reed for the first time. For a split second, their eyes met.

Reed felt a shiver runs down his spine.

There was something churning in those man's eyes.

"Do you have any relations to the terrorist group operating around Parktown?" the Corporal continued.

The prisoner turned his head back.

"What's the weather like today?" he asked.

Reed blinked. Why would he ask that?

The Corporal gritted his teeth. "Answer my questions and I'll tell you," he said.

"Your shoes aren't muddy, so it can't be raining," the prisoner said. "So what is it? Cloudy? Sunny? Maybe a bit windy?"

The Corporal sighed and turned to Reed.

"Do you see what we mean?" he said.

The prisoner looked at Reed again.

"What's the weather like today?" he asked.

"First, tell me who you are," Reed said.

The prisoner said nothing.

Reed weighed his options. No matter which country you were in, answering a prisoner's questions was highly discouraged. However not answering his questions didn't seem to be working either.

"It's sunny," Reed said.

The prisoner leaned backwards and crossed his legs comfortably.

"Sunny enough that people are strolling around?" the prisoner asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Reed asked.

The prisoner shrugged. For just a moment, his hands weren't clasped and Reed was able to see them clearly. And when he did, his eyes went wide.

The prisoner's hands were covered with acid scars.

Reed's expression must have given him away, because the prisoner eyed him carefully, before slowly refolding his hands.

The prisoner sighed, his tone impassive. "Since I've been arrested, I haven't seen so much as a window. Tell me, has City Hall planted their flowerbeds? What's the latest show playing in the theater?"

"That's enough," the Corporal said. "We're getting off topic."

"Hush," the prisoner said. "I was talking to the Lieutenant."

Reed narrowed his eyes. So the prisoner had counted his ranking pins. What did that mean?

Reed let his eyes shift to the Corporal's own ranking pins. Of course, small prisons like these were run by low ranking military officers and military police. A Lieutenant's presence would signify that something important was happening. If Reed was imprisoned and he saw that there was a higher-ranking officer present, he would probably try to find out why they were there. Maybe even where they came from.

Is that why the prisoner wanted him to answer his questions? To find out where he was from?

Suddenly, Reed understood. There was a City Hall in Parktown, but there wasn't one in East City. However there was a theater right across from Eastern Command. That's why the prisoner wanted Reed to answer the question. So that he would know which city Reed was more familiar with.

"I don't know," Reed said. "I don't go out much."

The prisoner's piercing eyes stared at him for a moment before he turned back to the Corporal.

"Such a shame," the prisoner said. "Spring is my favorite season."

The Corporal cast a glance towards Reed before picking up the file once more.

"What do you know about the terrorist group operating around Parktown?" he asked.

The prisoner stayed silent. However Reed noticed some sort of unreadable expression cross his face.

"That group's caused some trouble haven't they," the prisoner said.

Reed exchanged glances with the Corporal. Were they finally getting a response? And of all times, why would the prisoner decide to start talking now?

"Yes, they have," the Corporal said.

The prisoner nodded. "I remember their first attack, a bookstore on Palm Avenue, then a convenience store on Birch Road, after that it escalated to the restaurant on Flem Street, and after that..." the prisoner turned to face Reed. "Where was the fourth attack again?"

Reed stared blankly. He didn't know.

The file in East City stopped after the second attack. And even if it hadn't, Reed doubted that he would have memorized all those details for a mere prison transfer.

As much as Reed was controlling his expression, his silence seemed to answer the prisoner's unspoken question. The prisoner's lips curled into a soft smile and he leaned back further.

Reed has a sinking feeling that he had given away something big.

The Corporal stared at the prisoner, just as confused.

"The fourth attack was a market on South Street," Smith said.

The prisoner nodded.

"I remember now. It was on a Saturday." He smiled. "It was quite amusing."

"Amusing?" Smith asked.

"I don't think I've ever seen acid dissolve that much skin. And the screams, never thought humans could make such a sound."

The Corporal gritted his teeth. "Three people died that day, including a five year old boy."

The prisoner shrugged. "They probably deserved it."

Smith leapt to his feet. "You inconsiderate-"

"Corporal," Reed said.

Smith glared at Reed for a moment, before sitting down once more.

"Excuse me," he said, looking down.

Reed turned back towards the prisoner, eager to learn more.

So far, he had mentioned acid. Plus, he had acid burns on his hands. If anything, that confirmed his connections to the terrorist group.

"What else do you know about that attack?" Reed asked.

However the prisoner seemed to be done talking. He simply stared at Reed, having gotten all the information he needed.

"Do you know anything else about the other attacks?"

The prisoner looked up at him and just smiled.

* * *

Warden Morris and Sergeant Davis were waiting for them in the hall.

"Well?" the Warden asked.

"Would you happen to know how the terrorist group gets their acid?" Reed asked.

The Warden shook her head. "We haven't been able to track it. The few labs in the city haven't had any theft and their inventories check out. Why do you ask?"

"The prisoner had acid burns on his hands," Reed said.

"How can you be certain it was acid?" Corporal Smith asked.

"I knew someone who liked to play around with chemicals," Reed explained.

"So this confirms that the prisoner is connected to the terrorist group," Lynn said.

"There's more," Reed said. "Those burns are on his hands, mainly around the fingers. We could argue that he merely carried out the attacks, and got burned then, but in that case, they would be fresh wounds. These are old scars," Reed said, "So I think it's reasonable to conclude that he was the one who manufactured the acid."

"It makes sense," the Warden said.

"But we don't have any concrete proof," Smith said.

"If anything, it definitely links him to the attacks," Lynn said.

The Warden nodded. "Corporal, get an expert to look at the scarring and confirm that the scar distribution came from acid."

"Yes, sir," Smith said, saluting, before walking away.

The Warden waited until he had rounded the corner, before turning back towards them.

She cleared her throat. "So now that you've seen the prisoner for yourself. Are you going to proceed with the transfer?"

Reed exchanged glances with Lynn.

"We should contact General Hayes. There just might've been a miscommunication," Reed said. "Is there a phone we could borrow?"

The Warden nodded.

"This way," she said, leading them down the hall.

When they arrived at the phone booth, Reed picked up the receiver, hesitating for a moment.

"Warden, if you don't mind, could you please fetch me the prisoner's file. I would like to have it for reference. I'm sure the General would ask about it."

"Of course," the Warden said, turning down the hall.

Reed waited until she was out of earshot before turning to Lynn.

"There wasn't a miscommunication," he said, bluntly.

"But you just said-"

"I know, but listen. Protocol is extremely strict with reports like these. The Communications Department works overtime to make sure that documents are not lost. They would have triple checked to make sure that the report arrived at our office," Reed said.

"So we can be sure that the report reached General Hayes's desk," Lynn said.

Reed nodded, "but remember, for security reasons, nothing is ever sent directly to a high ranking officer. Protocol also requires that a subordinate review it first.'

Lynn creased her brow.

"What are you saying?" she said.

"I'm saying that at least one other person in the office knew of the Warden's report," Reed said.

"So then why weren't we..." Lynn's eyes went wide. "You don't think General Hayes didn't fully brief us on purpose?"

"It makes sense. Of all the officers under his command, we are the only two to have never openly questioned his judgement." Reed said. "My guess is that the General sent us here, hoping that we'll carry out the prison transfer despite the Warden's objections."

Lynn gritted her teeth. "I hate it when he does things like this."

"Me too," Reed said.

"So what now?" Lynn said.

"Well, he is a General and we are only his subordinates. The best thing we can do is call him and hope he is in a good mood," Reed said, picking up the phone. He dialed the number to the General's office. He was moderately surprised when he was rerouted to the Communications Department.

"This is Eastern Command, Communications, who is speaking?" someone said on the other end of the line.

"This is Lieutenant Logan Reed. Can you reroute me to General Hayes?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but the General isn't taking calls at the moment."

Reed glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still office hours.

"Then can you reroute me to someone in General Hayes's office?" he asked. Lynn leaned in closer to him, attempting to hear the other side of the conversation.

"They're not taking any calls, however if you wish, you can leave a message. He should get back to you sometime next week."

"Next week?" Reed said. "Listen, this is Lieutenant Reed. General Hayes is my direct superior. I am currently on an ongoing mission and I need to speak with him."

"I'm sorry, but the General isn't taking any calls."

"Then can you reroute me to another-"

"No can do," the person said. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Reed gritted his teeth. Perhaps a different approach.

"Three days ago, Parktown prison sent a report to General Hayes's office. Can you see if it has arrived?"

"One moment."

There was the sound of shuffling papers.

"Yes, it arrived two days ago."

Reed exchanged glances with Lynn.

"Can you tell me the report specifics?" he asked

"Well, we don't have a copy of it here. But it was from Warden Morris to General Hayes. Something about a prison transfer."

Reed nodded. At least the Warden's story checked out.

"Can you tell me who received it?"

"The log doesn't specify."

"Then would you mind calling the office and asking them?"

"Sure, one-" the person stopped, having caught onto Reed's ruse. Reed heard chuckling. "Oh, you're a clever one. Almost got me there, didn't you?"

"I need to talk to someone within that office," Reed said.

The person sighed. "Well, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll save you the trouble. The entire Communications Department has been ordered to disregard all phone calls to General Hayes."

"On whose orders?" Reed asked.

"I can't answer that."

Reed sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I need to speak with the General."

"How bad's your mission?"

"That report I asked you about, I didn't even know it existed until I got to Parktown," Reed said.

There was a loud whistle on the line. "Well, that's certainly the General's style."

"Are you sure there's no way I can contact the General?" Reed asked.

"Afraid so. Listen, I'm really sorry, but there's nothing either of us can do," the person paused. "You didn't hear it from me, but the General isn't even in his office right now."

"What?"

"I said too much already, but that's really all I know."

Reed sighed. "Can I at least leave a message?"

"Sure."

"Tell the General that his subordinates have arrived in Parktown prison, however it appears that the Warden has denied the prison transfer. Furthermore, there is new evidence that the prisoner is a crucial member of the terrorist group. With these developments, it is highly suggested that the investigation be allowed to continue and the prison transfer be reevaluated. As of now, we are waiting for further instructions."

Reed listened as the person wrote it down.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," Reed said. "Thanks anyway."

The line went dead. Reed let out a sigh and put down the phone.

* * *

 _"You were unable to contact the General?" Mustang asked._

 _"Yes, sir."_

 _"And at the time you didn't know why."_

 _"That is correct."_

 _"But you know now."_

 _"Yes, sir."_

 _"So after that phone call, what did you think was going on?" Mustang asked._

 _"I honestly didn't know. It was possible that the General was simply called away on a mission of higher priority," Reed said._

 _"And how did this uncertainty affect your actions?" Mustang asked._

 _"It definitely made me uneasy. I didn't really know what to do and I had to rely on what I already knew and what I felt was right," Reed said._

 _Mustang folded his hands._

 _"Do you believe that your actions were rash in any way?"_

 _"At that moment, no. If anything it made me more cautious," Reed said._

 _Mustang's expression was blank and unreadable. Reed was afraid that he had said the wrong answer._

 _"So in the end, what did you decide to do?" Mustang asked._

 _"Well, Sergeant Davis and I talked it over. We didn't want to overrule the Warden, but at the same time we didn't think we should disregard the General's orders," Reed said. "At the latest we had to return to East City before dark. It would take an hour and a half to drive that windy road back. That meant that we had to leave Parktown by 1900 hours. It was about 1400 hours when we attempted to call General Hayes. We figured that we'd wait a few hours. In case the General was able to pick up our message," Reed said._

 _"So what did you do while you were waiting?"_

 _"We decided to aid in the investigation of the terrorist group."_

* * *

Reed rubbed his eyes and stared at the papers before him.

The file on the local terrorist group wasn't that detailed. It was mostly compiled of eyewitness reports. However many were vague and contradicted one another. Only the medical and first responder reports were consistent.

All of the attacks had been ambushes on civilians. The group seemed to be going out of their way to avoid attacking military personnel. Explosives were used for the first two attacks, but after that the group switched to acid.

In the back of his mind, Reed wondered if the group was strong enough to pull off an attack on the military.

The group did have one thing going for them. The acid they used was extremely corrosive. It allowed them to gain the upper hand and incapacitate virtually everyone within a 20 feet (6 meter) radius. In just seven attacks, over 90 people have been treated for acid burns, many facing permanent disfiguration, while fourteen had died.

And now the man responsible for this, the terrorists group's most valuable member, was sitting in a prison cell.

 _'This can't end well.'_

Reed shook his head and began to reread the report from the top.

Sergeant Davis and the Warden were chatting in the corner, taking a break from reviewing the files. Their voices flowed past where Reed was standing and he couldn't help but listen in.

"I'm sorry you came all the way down here for this," Warden Morris said.

"No, it was fine for the most part, just really hot," Lynn said.

"I know what you mean," the Warden said. "It's a relatively long drive, isn't it, from East City, over an hour, I believe."

"An hour and a half," Lynn said. "And the twists and turns don't help, I kept getting dizzy."

"It doesn't help that it's dirt either. I keep hoping that they'll pave it one day, but now a days everyone takes the trains so it wouldn't be worth the time," she said. "You know, once I was driving out there during winter, it started to rain and the whole road turned into mud."

"Aww, that must've sucked," Lynn said.

Reed turned back to the file, disinterested in the conversation.

He sighed and rubbed his shoulder. It was true that stress was getting to him, but he knew that wasn't the only reason. For the past 20 minutes a purely evil thought had begun to resonate around his skull.

 _'There is no military base in Parktown. And a town like this would likely only have one records room.'_

 _'So it is likely that Kani's missing person report is in this very room.'_

Reed's heart pounded in his chest.

It was tempting, too tempting.

His eyes wavered to the file cabinet next to him, a ring of keys still in the lock. It would be easy, so incredibly easy to just take those keys and find her file. It had to be in here, somewhere among the rows of file cabinets.

He had always wondered what happened after they left Parktown. How long did it take before people realized that she was missing? How long had the MPs searched before giving up? And what was her family's reaction? Did they cry? Did they feel guilty?

Did Kani have a grave?

A headstone marking an empty plot of land. A futile attempt to remember what was long gone.

Reed bit his tongue. He was being stupid. Both the Warden and Sergeant Davis were within earshot. What would happen if they decided to check his progress to find him rummaging through a missing person's report from two years ago.

Reed turned back to the file. He had enough to worry about. It was six o'clock. If they had any hope of getting back to East City before dark they would have to leave soon.

And deep down, despite everything he told the Warden, he knew that the General wouldn't respond.

General Hayes was incredibly headstrong, never explaining more than he had to. He kept his real plans a secret, even to his own men.

Logically, Reed knew that the best thing he could do was suck it up and drive back to East City, prisoner in tow.

But he just couldn't.

This was Parktown. This is where it all happened. He had walked into this town as a nameless Drachman spy and had left as an Amestrian soldier.

He had taken Kani's life. Kani, who had been an innocent bystander, whose only fault was her devoted love for her boyfriend.

He had murdered her.

And that guilt would live with him forever.

So perhaps this was why, as Reed continued to flip through the file that he felt less and less inclined to leave. This was probably the last time he would ever step foot in this town. And it just didn't feel right to leave while a terrorist group was still on the loose. In his own twisted mind, this was one of only thing he could do to make it right. That at the very least, he made sure that the town Kani had lived in would be in peace.

 _'That's not a reason._ _This is selfish indulgence and it will only lead to trouble.'_

He sighed and brushed his hair back.

"Found anything yet?"

Reed looked up to see Corporal Smith facing him.

"No, not really," Reed said. "Is this all you have on the group?"

"Unfortunately," the Corporal said. "There might be more in the evidence logs, but everything else is in that file."

Reed sighed.

The Corporal continued to speak. "The group's remained elusive. There's no telling what they're next plan is. So you see how important this prisoner is. If he is truly that important to the group, he may be the key to this case. Which is exactly why he should be kept in Parktown. All Eastern Command is concerned with is prosecuting this guy. We're actually trying to catch the entire group."

"I know," Reed said. "But there's not much we can do without contacting General Hayes."

"If I may be frank," the Corporal said. "I think you should worry less about protocol and more about your obligation as a soldier." He gestured to the report. "For months now, this is what the people of Parktown have been faced with. They have been living in terror, wondering if they would be the next victims. Can you imagine how that must feel? To go to work everyday, knowing that your family might not be there when you come back."

Reed stiffened.

"I hear you," he said.

Faintly, he could hear Lynn laughing from the corner of the room.

He mentally shook himself. "You mentioned evidence logs. Mind if I see them?"

"Sure," the Corporal said. "I'll just need to put that file away first."

"Okay," Reed said. He organised it so that the papers were in chronological order, making sure that the report from the first attack was on top.

"A few years back, we had some problems with officers taking files out and forgetting to return them. So now the Warden doesn't allow any file to leave the records room unless it's cleared by her," he said.

"That's practical," Reed said.

The Corporal nodded and attempted to open the file cabinet. He cursed as the key refused to turn.

"Damn lock," he said. "Keeps sticking."

"Are all the locks like that?" Reed asked, tilting his head.

"No, just this one," the Corporal said, still struggling. "We'll have to get it fixed, been like this for a month."

Finally, the key turned and the drawer opened. Reed dropped the file, closed the drawer, and the Corporal yanked the key out. Together they turned and began to walk towards the evidence locker.

* * *

 _"So what happened next?" Mustang asked._

 _"I continued to go over the evidence with Corporal Smith until it was about 1800 hours. At which time Sergeant Lynn and I regrouped and discussed what we were going to do," Reed said._

 _"And what did you decide?" Mustang asked._

* * *

"General Hayes better reimburse us for this," Lynn said, shoving the door open.

Reed followed behind her, smiling softly to himself.

"Hey, you agreed to stay too." He surveyed the room. Two small beds and a bath. Not bad. "Hopefully, we'll only be here for one night," Reed said. "If the General doesn't get back to us by then, then we should probably head back to East City."

"With or without the prisoner?" Lynn asked.

Reed looked away. "I don't know yet."

Lynn sighed and plopped down on one of the beds.

"Isn't there a protocol or something that when officers are on a mission, their superiors have to remain contactable," she said.

"If there is, I've never heard of it," Reed said. "Plus, I doubt that it would apply to prison transfers."

He plopped his bag on the ground and stooped to take off his boots. They had found the cheapest inn they could, deciding to share a room to save money.

Parktown prison didn't have any extra bunks. "Unless you want a room with three walls and a steel bar door," Corporal Smith had joked.

Lynn's sigh made Reed looked up.

"I hate sleeping in my uniform," she said.

"I have some extra clothes," Reed said, looking at his bag. "You can borrow some."

"Really?" Lynn said.

Reed nodded, trying to think of an excuse. As a spy, it was a habit to bring a go bag, complete with an extra change of clothes, everywhere he went.

"When I was in the West, I knew a guy who was a bit of a survivalist. Came prepared for every situation. I guess some of it rubbed off on me," Reed said.

"Wow, you know a guy who worked with acid and someone who's a survivalist. You must really get around," Lynn joked.

"Who says they're different people," Reed said.

Lynn laughed and shook her head.

Having eaten before checking into the inn, they took turns getting ready in the bathroom, and Reed lent Lynn one of his T-shirts.

Afterwards, Lynn talked for a little bit about the various people she'd known and places she'd been.

Reed's mind was a bit too muddled to do anything other than nod along.

At about 10 o'clock, they decided to call it a night and go to bed.

As they began to drift off, Reed heard Lynn shuffle in her bed.

"I wonder if this counts as insubordination," she said.

Reed closed his eyes and pretended not to hear her.

* * *

It was about 3 in the morning when Reed woke up again.

He stared at the ceiling, wondering what had woken him.

It was probably nothing.

He sat up and looked around the room. Light from a streetlamp was streaming through the curtains, casting a low glow. In the other bed, Lynn was snoring softly, head buried in her pillow.

He looked at the far wall and squinted his eyes, just barely able to make out the dark shadow of his bag.

He had never fully unpacked Logan's apartment.

During the first few weeks he only took out what he needed: clothes, plates, some utensils, but nothing more. The rest of the boxes stayed piled next to the door, a daily reminder that this life was not his own.

About a month into his assignment, he had woken up in a cold sweat. Before he could even process what he was doing, he was tearing through the boxes. After half an hour of searching he finally found them, half hidden under an old tablecloth. Kani's letters.

And worst of all, he began to read them. Every story, every secret, every doubt, everything was revealed to him.

 _Everything._

After that, he couldn't keep food down for a week.

Reed rubbed his eyes. He couldn't break down now. He had a mission. He had to-

Reed shook his head. It was too much.

He needed to get out of here.

It was cold, so he fished through his bag and pulled on a dark jacket, leaving his uniform crumpled on the floor.

As he exited the room, he cast a glance at Lynn. She was still sleeping silently, covers pulled up to her chin. If he was lucky, she wouldn't even notice that he had left.

Reed closed the door.

The cool air felt good on his face. He began to walk, hoping to ease the anxiety in his mind. It was the middle of the night, so there was no one around.

He ended up walking along Main Street for half a mile before he came across Glen Road. He stopped at the street corner, gazing up at the apartment building where Kani used to live.

He walked over and checked the front door. It was unlocked. He strolled in, glancing around the lobby.

Her apartment was on the third floor. The door was locked.

His hand slipped into his pocket, reaching for his lock picks.

 _'What the hell are you doing?'_

He cursed himself. He was being stupid. What would he gain by breaking into Kani's old apartment?

Yet he had a growing urge to open the door and take a look around. It was in the middle of the night, he could be in and out before anyone noticed.

Or he could get himself arrested.

 _'If you blow your cover, then everything would have been for nothing.'_

He rubbed his bracelet and turned to leave.

It took him a while to find the alley.

That was to be expected. There was nothing noteworthy about that particular alleyway. People probably walked through it everyday, unaware of the immoral acts that took place there.

But this was where the switch happened; this was where they murdered Logan Reed.

It was weird. It wasn't even that cold and yet he was shaking.

He leaned against the alley wall, suddenly very tired.

Somewhere. Somewhere in his wicked mind, he could justify Logan's death.

After all, Logan had to be eliminated if he was going to take his place. There wasn't an alternative.

But Kani-

The sudden smell of blood sent him reeling. He pulled at his jacket, convinced that it had been soaked.

The moment passed. Leaving him panting against the alley wall.

 _'You need to get out of here.'_

There was a convenience store by the train station. Reed bought a map.

There were three roads going in and out of Parktown, but there was only one lake in the area. It was located close to one of the roads, which happened to lead to East City. Reed chuckled to himself, to think he had passed by it earlier that day.

He traced the lake. That was where his handler had dumped Logan and Kani's bodies.

He wondered if they were still intact. If their remains would ever be recovered. Or if they would remain there forever, lost to time.

He looked at the road again. The next time he drove along it, would probably be the closest he'll ever get to visiting their graves.

He spent the next hour memorizing that lake and the road that ran by it. He committed it to memory, needing to know the exact moment when he would be closest to them.

It was the tiniest bit of closure he could offer to himself.

When his legs could no longer support him, Reed returned to the inn.

Lynn was still sleeping, head buried under her pillows.

Reed shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. He crawled back into bed, not even attempting to go back to sleep.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling and wondered if it would snow this winter.

* * *

Lynn woke up at about 6 o'clock.

She sat up in her bed, hair tousled, and eyes drooping with sleep.

"Hey Reed, you there?" she asked, groggily.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he answered.

Lynn sighed and plopped back onto her bed.

"I don't want to get up," she said.

Reed sat up. "We have to go back to the prison. See if the General responded or if there were any breakthroughs in the investigation," he said.

 _'Both of which are unlikely.'_

Lynn stayed silent, staring at the door.

"Is something wrong?" Reed asked. She was usually quite talkative.

"Did you sleep alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" he said.

"It's nothing," Lynn said, shaking her head. "Let's get going."

* * *

 _"So you returned to the prison the next morning?"_

 _"Yes, sir."_

* * *

Reed rubbed his eyes, fatigue washing over him. They had been agonizing over the evidence for hours. Searching for anything that would be of use. He let out a groan of defeat.

"There isn't much here to go on," he said.

Lynn cast him an accusatory glance. "That's what I've been saying for the past two hours."

"I just wanted to see if I missed something yesterday."

Reed tapped his fingers against the table.

After each attack, two masks and two pairs of gloves were recovered from the scene of the crime. Any amateur would be excited that the group had left evidence behind. However it was more likely that the group left the evidence only because they were certain it couldn't be traced back to them.

And they were probably right.

"Let's go back to the masks," Reed said.

"Only one store sells them in Parktown. They reported a pretty big robbery two months ago. A whole truck of merchandise was stolen. However there were no leads," Lynn said.

"And the gloves?" Reed asked.

Lynn nodded and began to read from the evidence report. "The gloves are specially designed to withstand harsh chemicals. Lab gloves like these can only be found in two places in Parktown. Both of them did a full inventory after the third attack. No missing supplies."

"And outside Parktown?"

"Hasn't been investigated yet. The prison doesn't have the resources," Lynn said.

"Don't you think it's weird that these particular type of gloves are practically untraceable, but the masks were stolen?"

"But that's still assuming that the group robbed that store, which we have no proof of," Lynn paused. "Maybe we should go to the records room and look into the report that's there. It's probably more in depth than the evidence report."

Reed nodded. "But let's follow up on one more thing. These labs said they did a full inventory. Are we sure those reports are completely credible?"

Lynn was about to answer him when there was a sudden pounding of footsteps.

The door opened and Reed looked over, surprised to see Corporal Smith staggering into the room. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his brow.

"The Warden..." he panted, "she needs you... front of the prison... hurry."

"What happened?" Reed asked.

Smith swallowed, attempting to catch his breath.

"General Hayes... he's here."

 _"What?"_

"Just arrived... two trucks with him... he's really mad," Smith said.

Reed sighed. "Put the files away for us. Davis, let's go."

They sprinted through the halls, almost slipping on the polished floor.

As they exited the prison doors, Reed slowed to a steady march. General Hayes was standing next to the Warden. Behind them were two additional trucks.

 _'Damn.'_

Reed's heart hammered in his chest. He shook his head, forcing himself to relax.

Reed stopped before his superior and saluted.

"General Hayes, sir."

Next to him, Lynn did the same.

There was this certain arrogance to General Hayes. His chin was always raised, chest puffed out ever so slightly. It was downright intimating.

The General turned to face them.

"Reed. Davis," he greeted bitterly. "Nice of you to finally show up."

Reed took a breath and braced for a lecture.

"Tell me," the General continued. "What mission did I assign you?"

"We were to transfer a prisoner from Parktown to East City," Reed said.

"Yes, and when were you to return by?"

"Nightfall. However-"

"And when did I give those instructions?" he asked.

"Yesterday, but-"

"And in any way were my instructions unclear?"

"No, but you failed to-"

"Save your excuses," the General spat.

Reed stared at his commanding officer, at loss at what to do. Behind Hayes, the Warden gave him a sympathetic look.

Then to his surprise, Lynn stepped forward.

"Okay," she said, addressing the General. "You're right. We should've proceeded with the transfer."

A smile slowly spread across Hayes's features. "See Lieutenant, this is the kind of attitude you should-"

"However protocol also mandates that prior to a prison transfer, the ranking officer reviews the files pertaining to the case," Lynn said. "And as of your arrival in Parktown, you are now the ranking officer."

If possible the General's face got even redder.

Reed knew was Lynn was doing. The General was going to transfer the prisoner if it was the last thing he did. There wasn't anything they could do about that.

However at the same time, the General would never disobey protocol. This gave them an opportunity, however unlikely, to convince him to delay the transfer.

The Warden stepped forward.

"I believe Corporal Smith has the keys to the records room," she said.

"Fine," Hayes said. "Lieutenant Reed and I will review the files. Warden, you will work with my other officers to prepare for the transfer."

Reed cringed. It was demeaning, first to deny the Warden from reviewing her own case and then to order her to do something so menial. However, if she was insulted, she didn't show it.

"Very well," she said.

General Hayes began to walk towards the prison.

Reed gave Lynn a smile. He would have to thank her later.

They ran into Corporal Smith in the hall and proceeded with him to the record room.

Reed clenched and unclenched his fists. It was clear to him what the General's plan was.

He had sent his two most compliant officers, failing to fully brief them on the mission. Then he had remained uncontactable, so that they had no further orders to draw on. He was clearly hoping that they would've proceeded with the transfer, for fear of disobeying orders. When that failed, he showed up in Parktown himself and demanded the transfer, his rank practically guaranteeing that no one could oppose him.

Furthermore, as long as the mission went smoothly, Eastern Command wouldn't care much about General Hayes's methods. In fact if Reed complained, he would only attract attention for not following orders in the first place.

It was aggravating, to say the least.

They entered the records room.

General Hayes tapped his foot impatiently as Smith struggled to open the file cabinet.

"Finally," Hayes said, once Smith had gotten the key to turn. "Now let me see this file."

Reed took the file from the Corporal and flipped it open to the first page. Notes from the previous day's interrogation stared back at him.

He furrowed his brow. Hadn't he put all the papers in chronological order?

"What's the hold up," General Hayes said.

Reed barely heard him. He turned to Corporal Smith.

"Yesterday, after we locked up. Did anyone touch this file?" Reed asked.

The Corporal shook his head. "No, I have the only set of keys and I lock those up in the Warden's office every night."

Reed's eyes went wide, looking at the file cabinet's sticky lock.

 _'Don't locks degrade if they are picked wrong?'_

"Enough of this," General Hayes hissed, ripping the file from Reed's hands. He glanced over the papers once before marching away.

Reed cast an apologetic glance at the Corporal before following after his commanding officer. His boots clacked rapidly against the polished floor, trying to keep up.

"General. Please just hear me out," he said.

The General stopped and turned, his face red with anger.

"Why did you disobey my orders?"

Reed swallowed. "When we arrived, we sat in on an interrogation with the prisoner. Like the Warden says, the prisoner is showing extremely unusual behavior. That itself warranted extreme caution. Furthermore, we have reason to conclude that he manufactured the acid used in the terrorist attacks. With those developments, I believe that it would be worthwhile to continue the investigation in Parktown."

"That's not a reason."

"General-"

"Don't you understand?" Hayes said, "There are investigators in East City ten times as qualified as the ones here."

"Sir, you and I both know that if that prisoner reaches East City, he'll be executed before the week is out," Reed said. "It wouldn't matter that he's the only link to the terrorist group. Central Command doesn't care. We'll lose our only chance at catching these guys."

"If he truly manufactured the acid, then his death would be a profound blow to the group," Hayes said.

"How can you be certain of that?" Reed said.

General Hayes shook his head and turned to leave.

"I've had enough of this. I'll go over the files myself. You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"We leave Parktown at noon. Until then, get out of my sight."

* * *

 _Reed fell silent and began to pick at the blood on his hands._

 _Mustang watched him for a few moments, before standing and walking over to the door._

 _Reed looked up, perplexed._

 _The Colonel called to someone in the hallway and spoke a few hushed sentences before closing the door once more._

 _Reed watched him sit back down._

 _For a few minutes, they sat in silence. The Colonel seemed to be taking great interest in the file before him._

 _There was a knock on the door._

 _Mustang answered it. This time Reed caught a glimpse of a blond haired Lieutenant handing him something before the door was closed once more. The Colonel walked over and set a towel, a bowl of water, and what looked like a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the table._

 _"Here," he said. "For the blood,"_

 _Reed waited for him to sit back down before reaching for the towel._

 _"Thank you, sir," he said._

 _"Anytime," Mustang said, looking back at the file. "Shall we continue?"_

 _Reed nodded. He began to wipe the blood from his hands, slowly turning the white towel red._

* * *

They were ready to leave at 12 o'clock

Reed stood near the entrance of the prison and rubbed his bracelet.

 _'This is your last chance.'_

The doors opened and Corporal Smith appeared. He was escorting the prisoner, his hands tightly gripping the prisoner's shackles.

In spite of everything, the prisoner looked quite content with the situation. He was smiling, eyes closed, and head turned towards the sun.

Reed approached them.

"I got him," he said, reaching for the shackles.

Corporal Smith looked at him.

"For what it's worth, thanks for trying to help us out," Smith said.

Reed felt his throat tighten. If only he could get General Hayes to listen to him.

Reed forced himself to nod, before pulling the prisoner towards the direction of the trucks. He waited until they were out of earshot before speaking.

"What's your group planning?" Reed whispered.

"I don't know what you are talking about," the prisoner said.

"Don't play with me," Reed said. "I know that they broke into the records room. Mind telling me how they did that?"

Reed was almost certain that they had picked the locks. However the question still remained as to how the group managed to get into the prison to begin with. In Amestris, even minimum security was still something to contend with. That was one reason why Reed hadn't told anyone else his findings, if there was an inside man, he couldn't risk tipping them off.

Reed racked his brain. How could they have done it?

Well, how did Drachma do it?

Reed turned toward the prisoner.

"Is the janitor an inside man?" he asked. "Do they come everyday and check for developments? Is that why the floors are so clean?"

The prisoner just smiled. "Well look at that, the puppet Lieutenant actually has a brain."

"Dammit, I'm trying to help you." Reed hissed. "If you reach East City, you'll be executed."

"Perhaps."

They were approaching the General's truck. A few more steps and they would be within earshot.

"Well if you're so certain, then why don't you take your findings to your General?" the prisoner said.

Reed shook his head. He had already explained as much as he could. Any more would only raise suspicion.

"It's complicated."

"No it's not."

The other officers were approaching them now.

Reed leaned in closer. "What do you mean?"

"Well if I might share my theory," the prisoner said, looking him in the eye. "I think you have something to hide."

The other officers stepped forward.

"Good work, Lieutenant," one of them said. "We'll take him from here."

Reed watched helplessly as they pulled the prisoner away from him. The prisoner was quickly loaded into the back of the General's truck. As they were closing the door, the prisoner raised his hand in a halfhearted wave.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Reed," he said.

Reed's stomach twisted.

"Alright," General Hayes said, "Reed, Davis, you'll drive the lead truck. Kolen and I will be in the middle, with the prisoner. Rusford and Williams will take the rear."

Reed barely heard him. He was preoccupied with a totally different thought.

 _'You never told the prisoner your name.'_

Someone touched his forearm and Reed flinched.

Beside him, Lynn furrowed her eyebrows.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

"You know I can drive-"

"No," Reed said, taking out the keys. "I got it."

They got into the truck and Reed turned the transmission, the engine roaring to life.

General Hayes's voice cracked over the radio.

"Alright. We got an hour and a half drive back to East City. Let's hope it goes well. Over."

"Roger." Lynn replied.

Reed stared at the road ahead of them, pressing down on the gas pedal.

They began driving towards the outskirts of Parktown.

 _'1 hour from the lake.'_

Lynn rolled down her window.

"For what it's worth, I don't think this mission was a total loss," she said. "I mean, the General is going to be pissed for a while and we'll probably have to work overtime for a few weeks. But we'll get through it."

Reed nodded, but didn't say anything.

 _'55 minutes from the lake.'_

Reed looked out the window. They were passing green foliage now, slowly driving deeper and deeper into the forest.

From their last interaction, the prisoner seemed awfully calm.

What was going on?

What was he missing?

 _'50 minutes from the lake.'_

Reed gripped the steering wheel.

He was certain that he had never told the prisoner his name. Of course, it was possible that one of the other officers has simply told the prisoner, but Reed doubted that. The MPs never exposed information to prisoners. In fact the only officers that might have said something would be the Warden or Corporal Smith. However both had been unwilling to indulge in the prisoner's questions, so it was equally unlikely that they would have told him.

Was it possible that the prisoner had learned from the terrorist group?

It was plausible. After all, Reed already speculated that they broke into the records room. How much harder would it have been to slip the prisoner a note?

There was a reason why Reed had instantly suspected that the janitor was in league with the terrorist group. Janitors were just the easiest way to infiltrate Amestrian bases. They experienced minimum background checks, operated mainly at night when no one was around, and had full rein of the complex. That was how Drachma was able to infiltrate so many Amestrian bases. Reed wouldn't be surprised if every janitor in the country was an operative of some sort.

But if that was true and the terrorist group did have full rein of the entire prison, they probably had access to a variety of other things.

 _'40 minutes from the lake.'_

But it didn't matter anyway; General Hayes would never listen to him unless he had real evidence.

 _'30 minutes from the lake.'_

Maybe he was just overreacting.

It was possible that the lock was just old. The Warden could have looked over the file after everyone had left and messed up the order. The prisoner could have heard his name by accident and he could just be unusually clever, nothing more.

Practically all of Reed's suspicions could easily be explained.

Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

 _'15 minutes.'_

"Do you think what we did was wrong?" Reed asked.

"What do you mean?" Lynn said.

"Do you think we should have proceeded with the prison transfer, in spite of what the Warden said," Reed said.

Lynn paused for a moment.

"I don't know," she said. "It definitely would've been easier for us. But then again, it's always easier to just follow orders."

Reed rubbed his bracelet, thinking over her words.

"But I still can't shake the feeling that something's wrong," Lynn said. "You saw the file. The terrorist group is ruthless. Do you think they would really stand by as their member was hauled off to his death?"

 _'10 minutes.'_

Lynn was right. The group wouldn't just sit by and let their member be executed.

They had to be plotting something.

 _'5 minutes.'_

Think.

If another Drachman spy was arrested, what might Reed be ordered to do?

The answer was easy, he would be ordered to free the spy. But how?

Well it really depended on where the prisoner was being kept. If they were being kept in a cell Reed would wait until a guard change. Maybe even steal the keys.

But what about a prison transfer?

Well, Reed would probably orchestrate an ambush.

 _'Oh, no'_

If the group really had free rein of the prison, then they could easily gain access to the official transfer request. So it was entirely possible that the terrorist group knew exactly where they were at the moment.

And here they were, driving along a secluded road, the closest city more than half an hour away.

Reed's heart beat in his chest.

Three armored trucks and six armed officers. Would they really take that risk?

They were passing the lake now.

Reed looked out the window and into the green foliage. It was so thick; he couldn't even see the lake. He began to turn his head back. But for the briefest moment; he saw a flash of red. He looked again, but it was gone.

Reed picked up the radio.

"I think I saw something in the tree line. Over," he said.

There was an audible sigh over the radio.

"What did it look like? Over," General Hayes asked.

"It was a flash of red. Might've been a car or some other vehicle. Over."

"Probably just abandoned. Over."

"General-"

"Lieutenant Reed, I've had enough of your suspicions. Over and out."

Well that was it. He'd tried to warn them. Any further action would just further jeopardize his cover.

Reed turned the steering wheel. They were rounding a rather large curve, the road slowly coming into view, so that Reed couldn't see that far ahead of the truck.

Having spent the better half of last night pouring over a map, Reed knew that if there was going to be an ambush, it would likely happen somewhere along here. He looked to the side. Sure enough he saw a dark figure sulking behind the tree line. He looked back at the road in front of him.

He thought of his family and tried to keep his eyes on the road. There just wasn't anything else he could do.

 _Right?_

Against, his better judgment, he let his eyes waver to Lynn. She was gazing out the open window, fingers tapping against her knee.

The sudden image of Kani's bloody body jolted through his mind.

His eyes flashed back to the road.

Just in time to see a tree blocking the path.

His mind screamed.

He slammed his foot on the brakes. And before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he slipped his gun from his holster, raised it, and fired a shot though Lynn's open window.

Far behind the tree line, a dark figure fell.

 _'One.'_

Lynn yelped, flinching backward, eyes wide with fear.

Reed didn't wait to explain.

"Get that window up!" he shouted, his voice quickly drowned out as gunshots exploded around them.

Reed took a breath, forcing himself to focus.

He heard a thud to his right. A quick glance confirmed that a bullet had hit the window. The window was bullet resistant, so it hadn't shattered, but spider web like cracks had begun to spread. Reed knew it couldn't withstand multiple direct shots.

Reed looked out the window. Far beneath the undergrowth, he could make out four shadowy figures.

He cracked open the top of his window, just enough to fit the barrel of his gun, aimed, and fired.

 _'Two. Three. Four. Five.'_

"I can't get a clear shot!" Lynn said. She had left her window open a crack as well, but was firing blindly.

Reed gazed out his window. They were still on the curve. From this current angle, he couldn't see the trucks behind them.

"What are the other trucks doing?" Reed asked.

Lynn craned around in her seat. "The third truck is reversing, but the second hasn't moved. They're taking heavy fire."

Reed stared at the downed tree in front of them. There was no way he could go around it. And if the second truck couldn't move, then they were stuck as well.

Lynn hunched down in her seat. There were a few loud cracks as more bullets hit her window. Reed stared at the glass; it wasn't going to hold for long.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Reed climbed over. He stuck the barrel of his gun through the crack and took aim.

 _'Six. Seven. Eight.'_

"You okay?" Reed asked, moving back to his seat.

"I think so," Lynn said. She looked out the window. "They're breaking into the second truck!"

Reed cursed and placed the gun on his lap.

"Hold on," he said. Without a second thought, Reed switched the truck into reverse. The truck lurched. Reed stopped after only a moment, not trusting himself with his limited vantage point. He then switched back into drive and started to make a U-turn.

He gritted his teeth as they awkwardly swerved. The truck shook as they ran over a few bushes, going way too close to the tree line for his own liking.

Reed brought the truck to a stop.

He had managed to turn the truck around so that they were now facing the ambush.

The second truck had in fact not moved. The right window had shattered and it seemed like the front windshield was on the verge of breaking.

With the officers pinned down, there were a few people sprinting towards the truck.

Reed raised his gun.

 _'Nine. Ten.'_

Reed was out of bullets. He reached to reload his gun.

He cringed as the windshield was hit a few times. Cracks began to spread, limiting his vision.

Beside him, Lynn fired off a few shots.

More cracks spread as their windows were repeatedly hit. Reed gritted his teeth. If the glass broke, they would lose their only layer of protection.

Reed took a breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The group's goal was likely to free the prisoner, nothing more. They did not intend to have a long firefight with the military, they only wanted their member back. In this situation, they would likely just be laying heavy cover until someone was able to retrieve the prisoner.

Reed stuck the barrel of his gun out the window and aimed the best he could.

Sure enough there were more people running towards the second truck.

' _Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen'_

Reed ducked as more bullets hit the windshield. He scanned the tree line, but didn't see any figures.

"They're not giving up," Lynn said.

"As long as that truck is pinned down, they're not going to," Reed said. Most likely the group would just bide their time until they had finally run out of ammunition. Then they could do whatever they wanted.

Perhaps a change in tactic.

"Hold on," Reed said, hitting the gas.

The truck lunged forward and they bolted down the road. For a moment it seemed as if Reed was simply abandoning the scene. However, once they had almost passed the second truck, he turned the wheel.

There was an awful metal screech as their truck's left side scrapped against the back of the other truck. Reed hit the brakes and looked to his left. Sure enough, they were now physically blocking the door. It was a risky tactic, but it effectively blocked the prisoner in.

Now, in order to free the prisoner, the group would have to move the trucks themselves. And if they tried that, then Reed would easily be able to shoot them.

It seemed as if the group had noticed this as well, the gunshots having ceased.

Reed glanced through the forest, no longer able to make out any figures.

"Call for backup," he said.

Lynn nodded and reached for the radio.

* * *

 _"How are the others?" Reed asked._

 _Mustang looked up from his papers._

 _"What do you mean?" he asked._

 _Reed swallowed._

 _"Once we arrived in East City. I saw General Hayes and his aid being taken to the hospital. The rest of us were separated so our statements could be collected. I want to know if everyone is alright," Reed said._

 _Mustang looked at him sympathetically._

 _"I heard that the General and his aid were still in the hospital. They had the most substantial injuries, but after a week or two they should be all right. The two officers in the third truck as well as Sergeant Davis had minor injuries that were treated here at the base. I believe their statements have been already collected and they have been sent home," Mustang said._

 _Reed nodded. He was honestly glad that everyone had turned out okay. However another thought pried at his mind._

 _They had waited until they had collected everyone's testimonies, before collecting his._

 _This wasn't good._

 _Mustang rearranged the files before him._

 _"Can you give me an estimate of how many attackers there were?" Mustang asked._

 _"I couldn't see most of them," Reed said. "But I would guess at least twenty."_

 _"How many times did you fire your weapon?" Mustang asked._

 _Thirteen._

 _"I remember reloading it once, so it had to be at least ten," Reed said._

 _"Now, of those shots, how many do you believe actually hit their targets?" Mustang asked._

 _"I don't know. It all happened so fast," Reed said._

 _Mustang made a note._

 _"As I mentioned before Sergeant Davis has already given her report. She happened to mention some interesting things. Apparently_ _she had woken up in the middle of the night and found that you weren't there. Furthermore, she claims that you were the first to fire your weapon, even before the terrorists. Now, this surely raises more than a few questions. So it was decided to look further into the matter."_

 _Reed stared at Mustang for a moment, dread washing over him. His heart beat in his chest and he scrambled to come up with an excuse._

 _"Last night I went out for a walk," he said. "I couldn't sleep so I went out to clear my head. As for being the first to fire, I had already seen something in the forest, so I was already alert. It's just coincidence that I spotted one of the targets before everyone else."_

 _Mustang looked at him, unbelieving._

 _Reed racked his brain, trying to guess what the Colonel could be thinking._

 _"Can you tell me what type of gun you carry?" Mustang asked._

 _Reed blinked._

 _"It's a standard .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol," he said._

 _Mustang nodded, flipping through the file._

 _"In the end, we recovered eighteen bodies from the site and there is evidence of at least five of others escaping," Mustang said._ _"Now, you have no knowledge of this, but a few days ago there was a malfunction with a .45 caliber gun. It's not serious, but as a precaution, the Command Center mandated that each gun be inspected. So last night, all officers in Eastern Command temporarily switched to 9mm handguns."_

 _Reed felt his blood run cold._

 _Mustang continued. "Now, as Sergeant Davis and yourself stayed the night in Parktown, you obviously weren't able to switch out your guns. There's nothing wrong with that. It just means that we can clearly differentiate between who Sergeant Davis or yourself shot verses everyone else."_

 _Reed knew what Mustang was talking about .45 caliber and 9mm have notable differences in exit wounds. Telling them apart is child's play._

 _"Now of the eighteen people we recovered. Can you guess how many were shot with a .45 caliber?"_

 _"No, sir."_

 _"Fourteen," Mustang said._

 _Reed felt his stomach drop._

 _"Now Sergeant Davis only fired six shots. And of those six, she recounts hitting someone three times_ _."_ _Mustang pulled something from the file. "Do you recognize this?"_

 _Reed glanced over._

 _"It's one of the targets we use in the shooting range," he said._

 _"Correct. In fact, this is from your yearly assessment last month. 10 shots, from a distance of 40 feet (12 meters). You managed to land eight on the target, but as you can see they are all off center. All in all, not bad."_

 _"What does this have to do with anything?" Reed asked._

 _"You see Lieutenant, today you fired thirteen shots. Conveniently, of the eighteen bodies recovered, only thirteen had been shot once. Each were shot was a .45 caliber, the bullets hitting critical areas. Most were recovered from well behind the tree line_ _from over 50 feet (15 meters) away. In other words you managed to hit all of your targets while shooting with minimum visibility and out of a window nonetheless."_ _Mustang folded his hands. "You've been in the military since you were eighteen. Never before have you shown this kind of skill."_

 _Reed bit his_ _tongue._

 _He had grown up in the Briggs Mountains. For heaven sakes, he'd hunted bears during blizzards. Shooting with minimum visibility was his specialty._ _However Logan Reed had mediocre aim at best, so up until now, he had been dumbing it down. Purposefully missing on assessments. It had worked up until now._

 _But how the hell could he explain this._

 _"Well, Lieutenant," Mustang said. "Do you have an explanation?"_

 _Reed knew it was pointless._

 _"I would rather not say," he said._

 _Mustang looked at him._

 _"_ _This is a mission debriefing. It_ _is your obligation as a soldier to disclose everything that has happened," Mustang said._

 _"I already did. I told you exactly what happened and everything I was suspicious of. Now I have nothing left to say," Reed said._

 _For a brief second, something seemed to cross Mustang's eyes, but then it was gone._

 _Reed's heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he felt like it may burst._

 _He was in serious trouble._

 _The military could easily decide to investigate the matter further. They could go to his apartment and see that he hadn't unpacked a thing. Worse, they could recover Kani's letters, proof that he had a personal connection to Parktown. Then there was Kani, "his" girlfriend who went missing right when he transferred to East City. The moving company was aware that Logan Reed had stopped for a night in Parktown. If they found that out, everything else would come crashing down._

 _Reed felt tears swell in his eyes._

 _If he blew his cover now, all of his struggles would have been for nothing._

 _"Do you have any further comment?" Mustang asked._

 _Reed shook his head._

 _Mustang sighed and began to collect the papers._

 _"Well then, this debriefing is over. You'll be dismissed within the hour," he said._

 _Reed watched as the Colonel stood and began to leave._

 _"May I ask you a question, Colonel?"_

 _Mustang looked over._

 _"Go ahead."_

 _Reed bit his lip. "What's going to happen to me?"_

 _Mustang paused._

 _"You've always been a model officer. Your recent actions and behaviors do not reflect that. Like I said, never before have you shown this kind of behavior or skill._ _In the end, it really depends on what the higher ups decide. This incident will be reviewed several times, probably by the Fuhrer himself. Your refusal to give an explanation only makes things more complicated. Every action you made in the last 24 hours will be scrutinized," Mustang paused. "Are you sure you don't have any further comment?"_

 _"No, sir."_

 _Mustang sighed and turned away._

 _He had put his hand on the doorknob, when he paused again._

 _"Under the circumstances, you did the best you could. The results weren't perfect, but then again, nothing in this world is."_

 _And then he was gone._

* * *

That night, there was a knock on Reed's door.

It took him a moment to recognize the sound. Slowly, he stood, legs weak as he crossed his apartment. One of his neighbors had probably locked themselves out or perhaps his landlord had come over to discuss something.

The doorknob felt cool in his hand. He took a breath, attempting to compose himself. He couldn't afford to breakdown now.

He opened the door.

His handler was standing on his doorstep. Before he could say anything, she pushed her way inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

She quickly turned to him. "What the hell did you do?"

Reed blinked.

"You can't be here," he said, "You'll be seen-"

"Does it look like I care?" she said. "Now tell me what you did."

Reed took a step backward. "What've you heard?

"That Eastern Command is investigating you. Something about acting extremely suspicious during a mission to Parktown," she said.

Reed pursed his lips. "That sounds about right."

His handler's eyes went wide and she cursed. Reed watched as she began to pace about the room.

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to hear it," she said. She rubbed her temples. "Tell me everything that happened."

Reed sighed and recounted the events of the past two days.

Once finished, he looked up. His handler was standing quietly, her expression unreadable.

She gestured to the couch. "Sit."

Reed did as she said.

His handler sat down next to him. She let out a sigh.

"You've never jeopardized your cover before. So why now?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he said.

His handler shook her head. "You know better than to do something so foolish. And in Parktown nonetheless. You have ties to that town, you can't..." She trailed off, realization hitting her. She looked him in the eyes. "Does this have anything to do with Kani?"

He looked away.

His handler let out a long sigh.

"You really need to let that go," she said. "Kani is dead. Nothing can change that."

He shook his head. "But she wasn't supposed to die. I should have-"

"Stop it," she said. "Agonizing over it won't do you any good."

"I can't just pretend it didn't happen," he said.

"In most cases I would agree with you. But as it is starting to affect your judgement, you just have to let it go," she said.

"But I don't want to."

His handler's eyes widened in fury. "Don't you understand? You're being reckless. The accuracy of your aim, your investigations skills, your reluctance to leave Parktown, all of that jeopardizes your cover. And if you lose your cover, you will have no more use for our country. They will kill you to cover their tracks. Then as a warning, they will kill your family, just to show everyone what happens when you defy the military."

"You think I don't know that!" he shouted. "Believe me, I am painfully aware of how disposable I am." He took a shaky breath, eyes watering. "I can't sleep anymore. I barely eat. I am stressed and paranoid _all the time_."

The tears were unbearable now.

Something within him broke and before he knew it, he was sobbing, his entire body shaking as he cried.

Without a word, his handler stood and left the room. She returned a moment later, blanket in hand. And before he could protest, she had draped it over his shoulders.

The action only caused him to sob harder. He pulled the fabric close, clinging to it desperately.

His handler rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You fool," she said, "you stupid fool."

He closed his eyes tight, tears streaming down his face nonetheless.

The weight of his responsibilities was unbearable.

He was just tired, so entirely exhausted.

He wanted nothing more than to escape, to leave behind all his pain and heartache.

But that simply wasn't possible.

He was a soldier of the Drachman military. He was impersonating an Amestrian soldier. And furthermore, he had jeopardized his cover, something which endangered both himself and his family.

And there was nothing he could do to fix it.

Worse, even when he tried to do something good, something as simple as investigating a terrorist group or stopping a young Sergeant from getting shot, everything came crashing down.

There was just no rights in this world of wrongs.

And he was just _so tired_.

"I just felt the need to do _something_ ," he sobbed. "The military wasn't interested in investigating the terrorists, everyone could see it. So when the opportunity arose to stay in Parktown, I took it. And then when the ambush started, I... I just couldn't let them get hurt, not when I could stop it."

His handler nodded. "So you chose to save everyone."

 _'And dammed yourself instead.'_

He felt more tears spill down his cheeks.

"What should I do now?" he asked.

His handler sighed and stood up.

"Wait. Keep your head down. Don't do anything stupid from now on." She looked around the room. "If Eastern Command starts an investigation. You'll need to purge your apartment of any incriminating evidence."

Reed looked dimly at the unpacked boxes around him. He didn't think he could get himself to eat dinner, let alone go through all these boxes.

His handler seemed to notice his expression.

"Go get some sleep," she said.

"What?"

"You look like you're about to collapse. Go get some rest. I'll make sure the boxes are taken care of," she said.

Reed felt tears prick at his eyes. "Thank you."

He stood up and began to walk in the direction of his bedroom when he stopped.

"If you were in my place, what would you have done?"

His handler looked away. "Just go get some sleep."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Excluding the effect the Parktown Incident has on Reed, this chapter is self-contained. Currently, I do not plan on having the terrorist group, the prisoner, Lynn Davis, or General Hayes making a reappearance._

 _Fun Fact:_

 _The reason why the prisoner asked where the fourth attack was, is because any officer who had been fully briefed on the mission would likely know everything about the terrorist group's activities. The fact that Reed didn't know, told the prisoner that Reed's presence wasn't all that important and he was probably just running errands for someone else. This was supported by the fact that Reed didn't react to the prisoner's taunts. Someone who was emotionally invested in the cast would have reacted like Corporal Smith did, but Reed didn't._

 _The next chapter is going to be another long one. If it gets too long, I might cut it in half and post it in two parts. That said, I have no idea when the next update will be. Hopefully, it won't be another six month wait._ _I'll make sure to post updates on my profile though (I know that almost no one looks at those, but at least it gives me reassurance that no one thinks I'm dead or something)._


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note:_

 _Chapter 7 was 10 months ago, so here is a recap: While investigating the Shrunken Tavern, Reed was unexpectedly reunited with Viera, an old friend. After reconnecting, the two of them made plans to meet in the forest to discuss the White Wolves' plans. Later that evening, Reed entered the forest, taking advantage of the alone time to think about the Parktown Incident and process the consequences of his actions. Meanwhile, Meg and Ed were walking through town when a group of thugs approached them. When Ed refused to leave, they attacked them both, but Viera unexpectedly showed up and broke up the fight. From that interaction, Ed deduced that the White Wolves were hiding something in the forest. Unwilling to get backup, Ed went in alone to investigate._

 _I apologise for not stating it in an earlier chapter, but the intelligence team did come into Ukon under aliases with fake names. I just haven't mentioned them because I felt that it would have made the story too confusing._

 _There is some action violence in this chapter._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

 _I own nothing._

* * *

Mustang sat in the inn's common room, flipping through a tattered newspaper. He skimmed a few articles, but found nothing of interest. Frowning, he glanced for a publication date. Just how old was this thing?

Beside him, a group of construction workers were chatting amongst themselves. There were approximately 30 of them staying at this particular inn. Mustang had already acquainted himself with most of them. They seemed to be honest folk; civilians commissioned from all over the Eastern Area, promised a hefty bonus for taking on this particular job.

It had become customary among them, that after a long days work, to pull up a chair, pop open a bottle, and talk about their various exploits. Normally, Mustang would join them.

But today was different.

Hawkeye was busying herself with surveying the town. Even though he knew her preliminary reports were more than adequate, she insisted on double checking. Mustang knew better than to stop her.

Reed seemed to have a similar clivity towards work. He had taken on the arduous task of providing Ed with backup, though today he was out following a lead with Mark.

And Ed...

Mustang cast a glance at the clock.

Ed should have been back by now.

It wasn't as if Mustang had expected him to arrive on time. Ed had been making a clear effort to avoid him whenever possible. But Ed wasn't completely reckless, he knew the dangers of staying out too late.

Mustang shook his head.

Something must have happened.

He took a breath. If Ed had gotten into trouble again-

"Excuse me," someone said.

Mustang looked up. There was a construction worker standing before him.

"Yes," Mustang said.

"Have you seen your apprentice this afternoon?" the man asked.

Mustang shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

"You should find him," the man said.

"Why?" Mustang asked.

The man paused, pursing his lips. "I heard a gunshot."

Mustang felt his throat tighten.

"Where?" he asked.

"I was in the northern part of town, near Maple Street," the man said.

"Did you see who it was?" Mustang asked.

"No," the man shook his head.

"Did you hear anything afterward?" Mustang asked. "Like yelling or another shot?"

"Nope," the man said. "Just that one shot."

The workers next to them were beginning to listen in. A few leaned over.

"Do you think it could've been that group?" someone asked.

"The White Wolves?" another person said, "I don't know, but it makes you wonder who they were shooting at."

"You sure it wasn't an engine kicking?" someone said, "those two sound similar."

"I know what I heard," the man said.

"Maybe it was just a firework," someone suggested.

"Why the hell would someone set off a firework in the middle of the day?"

Mustang didn't stay to hear the rest of the conversation. He was already halfway out the door.

Once outside, he began walking down the street.

It was likely, he reasoned, that Ed was fine. After all, a single gunshot suggested a minor altercation. It could've been a squabble between two merchants, a gun accidentally going off, or some foolish kids in over their head. Ed might've not been involved at all.

But knowing Ed, he would have gone to investigate the second he heard of a gunshot.

Mustang gritted his teeth. He needed to find him.

He turned down an alley.

He would start at the abandoned clinic where the vandals held their meetings. If anyone asked, he'll say that he was looking for his apprentice. No one should be suspicious of that.

Because he was an alchemist, many assumed that Mustang's tactical skills were entirely composed of long range offense. They forgot that Mustang was a trained soldier. It was because of this, that despite his in increasingly frantic thoughts, he became aware of a second set of footsteps following his own.

If the situation were different, Mustang would approach the matter with caution. There were subtle methods of finding out who was following you. However, those methods took time and at the moment that wasn't something he could afford to waste.

So instead, he simply stopped and turned around.

"Who's there?" he called.

A figure, half covered by a shadow, stiffed at his words. After hesitating for a moment, they stepped into the light.

It was Meg.

Mustang furrowed his brow. "You're the girl my apprentice hangs out with."

Meg looked down, but didn't say anything.

Mustang continued. "I'm actually looking for him. Have you seen him this evening?"

The girl nodded. "I had a feeling that Edward wouldn't return to the inn."

Mustang narrowed his eyes. They had come into Ukon under aliases. How did she know Ed's real name?

"Do you know where he might be?" he asked.

Meg nodded again. "I think he went into the forest."

"Why would he go there?" Mustang asked.

The girl said nothing.

"Did something happen?" Mustang asked

She took a step back.

"It's complicated," she said. "But I'm certain that's where he went."

"Is he in danger?" Mustang asked.

Meg nodded, eyes watering. "Please, you need to help him."

"How can I find him?"

"You can't tell anyone I helped you," Meg said.

"I won't tell anyone," Mustang promised. He was growing desperate. "But please, how can I find him?"

"You have to promise," Meg said. "If anyone finds out I helped you, they'll kill me."

Mustang stared at her. Why was she so nervous?

"I promise I won't tell anyone," he said. "Now please, I need to find him."

Meg looked him in the eye. "There's a trail..."

* * *

Ed couldn't believe his luck.

He crouched lower behind a bush, peering out onto the trail. He stalked forward, taking every effort to make his footsteps as silent as possible.

Far ahead of him, the woman named Viera was walking down the path.

He had come across her by chance. While he was at Ukon's outskirts, he spotted her sulking in the shadows. Remembering the interaction with the thugs, Ed made a quick judgement call and followed her into the forest.

It was clear that she knew where she was going. She was walking with purpose, one foot in front of the other. Ed looked at the green foliage all around him and thought back to the maps he had seen. He honestly had no idea where they were. All he knew was that they were somewhere north, heading up a hill.

He looked back at the woman and sighed. She must be headed somewhere. People don't just walk around forests for no reason. There must be someone she was going to meet or something she was going to collect or even-

The woman turned around.

Ed darted behind a tree.

"Who's there," she called.

Ed held his breath, his heart beating in his chest. Had she seen him?

He hoped that she hadn't. Not only was he in no shape to fight, but he had no weapons. Ed looked at the ground and picked up some rocks, maybe he could transmute a knife or something.

"Show yourself," the woman said, taking a few steps forward.

Ed didn't move.

"I can see your shadow," the woman said.

Ed's eyes went wide.

There was the sound of a gun cocking.

"Raise your hands and get out from behind the tree!"

Ed stared at the ground. The woman had already seen him once, if she saw him again she'll definitely become suspicious. He couldn't let that happen. It would put the entire team at risk. But what else was there to do? She had a gun and it wasn't like he could dodge bullets.

The woman was slowly approaching the tree.

Ed looked back at the dirt. He could use alchemy to collapse the ground around them. It should be enough of a distraction to allow him to get away. However it would definitely leave alchemical marks. If the White Wolves discover them they'll know that an alchemist was investigating them, and once they knew what to look for, it wouldn't take long for them to discover the entire investigation team.

The woman's footsteps were closer than ever. Ed needed to decide, fast.

He looked up, sweat dripping down his brow.

It was then that he saw it, a figure half hidden in the undergrowth, slowly coming up the trail.

For a moment, they're eyes met. Then, the person raised their gun and fired.

The woman let out a cry of surprise and Ed heard her run for cover.

Ed made a break for it.

He darted down the trail, hoping that the woman wouldn't get a good look at him. There was a large tree to his left, if he could just get to it-

His foot caught on a rock.

Ed overbalanced, falling forward.

But before he could make contact with the ground, a hand grasped the back of his collar and pulled him to the side.

"You okay?" the person said.

Ed looked up in fury.

"Dammit Mustang! How did you know I was here?"

Mustang rolled his eyes. "Never mind that. Who the hell is that woman?"

"I don't really know," Ed said. He paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "But some thugs started a fight earlier and she broke it up. They seemed to obey her, so I guess she is important somehow."

"Did she get a good look at you?" Mustang asked, firing off some more shots.

"I don't think so."

"Okay then, we need to get out of here. Do you see that big boulder down the hill?"

Ed looked over. "Yes."

"On the count of three. I want you to run for it. I'll be right behind you."

Ed swallowed, staring at the distance between them and the boulder. He didn't know if they could make it.

He looked up at Mustang. "Are you sure?"

"Look Ed, I only have two rounds left and that woman might have backup. We need to get out of here."

Ed's heart was hammering in his chest. "But can't we just..."

Mustang fired off a few more shots. "Ed we don't have time for-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud shriek.

Ed flinched. "Colonel..." he said fearfully.

Mustang didn't respond. He cradled his arm against his chest and let out another cry of pain. Ed watched in terror as blood began to drip down Mustang's sleeve.

He had been shot.

* * *

Reed stared at the wisps of smoke rising from the barrel of his gun.

He wasn't quite sure which surprised him more: how quickly he had fired his weapon or the shriek of pain that followed.

He shook his head.

No, the thing that was most surprising was that he felt no guilt whatsoever. In fact, Reed was sure that he could shoot Mustang again, maybe even shoot him dead, if that meant getting Viera to safety.

He hadn't intended to get caught in the middle of this. All he wanted to do was silently think about the Parktown Incident, but the sound of gunshots had torn him from his thoughts. For a moment, he was tempted to stay where he was, safely hidden within the undergrowth. After all, he was in too much trouble already.

But Viera was supposed to meet him and it was incredibly likely that she was one of the people shooting. Ultimately, it was that thought that sent him running.

He had spotted Mustang and Ed first. They were sheltered behind a tree. Reed took out his gun. From his current vantage point he couldn't see who they were firing at. Reed began walking up the hill to get a better view.

That's when he had recognized Viera.

And before he knew it, he had turned around, raised his gun, and fired.

Reed took a breath. He needed to be careful. If Mustang or Ed saw him now, smoking gun in hand, he would definitely lose his cover. He began to stalk forward. He needed to get Viera out of here as soon as possible.

 _'Though this is the perfect opportunity to kill Ed'_

His eyes went wide.

 _'Mustang trusts you now. You could probably shoot him again before he even has the chance to react. After that, killing Ed would be easy. And when their bodies are found, the military will just blame it on the White Wolves'_

Reed swallowed, his gun shaking in his hand.

Before he could dwell more on that thought, he felt a shiver run through him. He raised his head and scanned the tree line. Someone was watching him.

His eyes quickly found Viera's, staring at him from behind a tree.

Forget everything. He needed to get her out of here.

Reed began to move towards her, carefully manoeuvring through the undergrowth. Once he was within earshot, he called to her.

"We need to get out of here," he said.

Viera continued to stare at him. "Who are they?"

Reed knew it would take too long to explain.

"They're alchemists," he said instead, hoping she would catch on. "Please, we need to go now."

"Are they from the intelligence team?"

Reed nodded. "I'll explain later, but we need to hurry. Please, I won't let them hurt you."

Viera stared at him for another second before nodding.

"Cover me," she said.

Reed raised his gun and fired several shots, waiting until Viera was safely hidden behind the tree line before retreating.

* * *

Mustang peeked out form behind the tree trunk.

"I think they left," he said, scanning the tree line once more. "Though they might come back. We should get out of here. Can you walk?" Mustang glanced over. "Fullmetal?"

Ed was still leaning against the tree. He had drawn up his legs against him and was resting his head on his knees.

Anxiety pried at Mustang's chest, his mind already assuming the worst.

"Ed," he said fearfully. Mustang swallowed, trying to get a grip. "Are you injured?"

Ed turned his head away.

"Are your ribs hurting again?" Mustang said. "Talk to me Ed, where is the pain?"

Ed said nothing.

"Fullmetal, if it's something relating to the surgery-"

"Shut up," Ed said, voice breaking. "Just shut up."

Mustang fell silent and moved to crouch before his subordinate.

Ed was shaking all over, his skin was clammy, and he was gasping for breath.

Mustang knew an anxiety attack when he saw one.

"Take deep breaths," he said as softly as he could. "Just breathe for a moment."

Ed took several shaky breaths.

"That's it," he said. "Now unclench your hands. Try to relax."

Ed opened and closed his fists. He shook his head and let out a short sob.

"Shhh... don't worry. You'll be okay." Mustang rested a hand on his shoulder. "Just keep breathing. The feeling will pass."

After several aching moments, Ed slowly stopped shaking.

"There you go," Mustang said, rubbing circles on his back. "Do you feel better now?"

Ed gave a slow nod.

"Good, do you think you can stand up?"

Slowly, Ed uncurled. Mustang looked him over. He didn't seem to be injured. Well, not physically at least.

"Do you have any abdominal pain?" Mustang asked, just to be safe.

Ed shook his head. "Ribs hurt a bit, but everything else is fine."

"That's good," Mustang said.

"Your arm," Ed said slowly.

Mustang looked down. He had been trying to ignore the pain, but his forearm was stinging badly and there was blood dripping down his sleeve. Luckily, a quick inspection found that the bullet had only grazed him.

"It's just a flesh wound," he said. "We can fix it up when we get back to the inn."

Ed gave another nod and moved to stand.

The second he put weight on his feet, he staggered off balance.

Mustang gripped his shoulder to steady him.

"You okay?"

Ed said nothing, but leaned against him, his breathing rapid.

"Don't worry, I got you," Mustang said. Without another word, he scooped Ed up into his arms.

Edward was too exhausted to protest.

* * *

They had been hiking through the forest for several minutes when Reed heard Viera stop behind him.

"I think we're good," Viera said. "They shouldn't be able to follow us this far."

Reed ignored her. He needed to keep moving.

"Hey," Viera called. "Would you slow down?"

Reed shook his head. His thoughts were a muddled mess.

"I just want to put more distance between us and them," he called over his shoulder.

"Well, can you tell me who they were?" Viera asked.

Reed stopped and took a breath.

"Edward and the Colonel," he said, turning to face her. "I honestly don't know why they were in the forest. I didn't tell them anything."

"No," Viera said, shaking her head. "I think this might be my fault."

"Your fault?"

Viera nodded. "I saw Edward and Meg earlier. Well actually, I had to stop a fight between them and some other Wolves. I was sure that Ed had left with Meg, but I guess he must've come back and followed me."

"And Mustang?" Reed asked.

"I don't know," she said.

Reed sighed. "Let's keep going."

"Hey, you alright?" Viera asked.

"I'm fine," Reed said.

"You know, Mustang was probably just following Ed," she said.

Reed shook his head. Even though that was the most plausible answer, it still didn't placate his fears.

Viera seemed to notice too.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I said I'm fine."

Viera was silent for a moment.

"You were shooting at them," she said.

"I know."

"Why?" she asked.

"I really don't want to talk about this right now," Reed said.

Viera sighed.

"It's just that if they had used their alchemy, which they easily could have done, they would have discovered us both. It would've been safer for you to just side with them," she said. "Why would you endanger yourself like that?"

"I wasn't endangering myself," Reed said.

"They're _alchemists_. How could you be-"

"Because if they'd seen me, I would have shot them," Reed said.

Viera stared at him for a moment.

"Alright," she said. "Sit down. We're going to talk this over."

"Viera-"

"I don't care what you say," she said. "We're discussing this, because something is obviously bothering you." She crossed her arms. "Besides, if you turn up at the inn at the same time as them, that'll look suspicious won't it?"

Reed sighed deeply. "Fine."

He sat down on a nearby rock. Viera sat down next to him.

"Now tell me what's going on," Viera said.

He started. "About two months ago, I was sent on this mission to Parktown. Towards the end of it a group of soldiers, including myself, ended up being ambushed. In the heat of the moment, I was able to shoot many of our attackers. However the soldier I am impersonating wasn't capable of that kind of precision, so the military became suspicious of me. As you can understand my superiors weren't exactly thrilled at that prospect." He ran his hand through his hair. "Ever since then I've just been so worried about losing my cover and scared with what my superiors would do to my family if I did. I just really cannot afford to make any more mistakes." he paused. "Then there's this mission. And Amber, who turns out to be the leader of this whole spy operation, gave me some other orders."

"What did she order you to do?" Viera asked.

Reed paused. "If this mission can't be salvaged. I am to kill the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Viera stared at him. "So that's why you were so inclined to shoot at them."

Reed turned away.

"It's not like I can decline," he said. "I seriously messed up during that mission to Parktown. If I don't follow these orders..." He shook his head. "I just have to carry them out."

"I get it," Viera said. "And this is just my personal opinion, but I don't think you should feel guilty about it either. Everyone knows that Drachma is ruthless, you can't afford to disobey them."

"Even if I have to follow through?"

"Especially, if you have to," Viera said, tilting her head. "Though it's a bit extreme don't you think."

"What do you mean?" Reed asked.

"Bit unusual to expect someone who just jeopardised their cover and saved enemy officers to basically assassinate someone, especially someone as young as Ed," Viera said. "You'd think they were testing you or something."

Reed fell silent. That hadn't even occurred to him.

It made sense. He received a lot of backlash for the Parktown Incident. Of course, being assigned to the case was out of his country's control. But once he arrived, Amber could have easily put him on the sidelines, ordering him to do nothing and overlook whatever the Wolves were doing. Yet instead, she had given him critical orders, orders even he wasn't entirely sure he was going to follow.

She was testing him.

Reed groaned. "I knew I didn't like her."

"Well, if that's the case, then you only have one thing to do," she said.

"What?"

"You'll have to kill Ed."

Reed looked at her.

"Look, I'm not just saying this because it'll benefit the Wolves. Think about it. Amber is testing your loyalty, giving you a extremely difficult order. If you don't follow it, she'll likely kill you and your family. It's obvious that rogue operatives have no use to her. But if you follow your orders, it'll both show your loyalty and redeem yourself for your past actions."

"So you think I should kill Ed, no matter how the mission goes?" Reed said.

"It's the only way to pass Amber's test," Viera said.

Reed looked down. Even if Amber wasn't intending to test him, Reed knew she wouldn't tolerate him disobeying orders. And in the end Viera did have a point, following orders was the best way to show his loyalty and amend for his past actions.

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about this right now.

"So what are the Wolves planning?" he said, changing the subject. "You still haven't told me that."

Viera smiled.

"Well for the past few months, the Wolves have been steadily growing in numbers. This includes support from townspeople and villages throughout the northeast area. They've been giving us a lot of food, supplies, and resources. In all, we're pretty well off," she said. "But we have one problem, we lack weapons."

Reed nodded. It didn't matter how large an organisation was, without weapons, they were powerless.

Viera continued. "Now, there is an obvious solution to this: we can raid the military depot in Heinsworth. The only problem with this is that it is too obvious."

"Did I mention that the military knows _nothing_ about what the Wolves are planning? I seriously doubt that they'll be expecting it," Reed said.

"Yes, but if they spot even one member near Heinsworth, it won't be hard to guess what we're going for," she said.

"True."

"Plus, I'm sure that the depot is full of military officers. We can't exactly have them at the base while we're raiding it," she said. "So then I had an idea, the military already thinks Ukon is swarming with Wolves. If it seemed that Ukon had become unstable, the military would send soldiers to intervene, vacating the base."

Reed understood. "And since the tracks to Ukon are wrecked, they'll have to walk all the way here, giving you time to do the raid," he said.

"Exactly," she said.

Reed smiled. "Well, that only leaves one problem. What're you going to do when all those soldiers arrive in Ukon."

"Easy," Viera said. "We blow them up before they get here."

Reed stared at her, ice running through his veins. "That cave you mentioned..."

"It's full of land mines," Viera said.

Reed studied her for a moment.

"You want to turn the White Wolves into a terrorist group," he said.

Viera nodded. "The former leader wouldn't allow acts of terrorism. He said aggravating the military would only lead to trouble. But the White Wolves have existed for nearly 20 years and simple resistance isn't getting us anywhere." She took a breath. "We have a lot of support now. It's about time we launched an attack against the military."

"The military won't stand for this," Reed said. "When Ishval revolted, they destroyed everything."

"Ishval was an annexed country. The general public already despised them. But we're Amestrians, it would be political suicide for the military to turn on it's own citizens and slaughter them," Viera said.

Reed shook his head.

"And you said it yourself, the military knows nothing about the Wolves. They don't know where our bases are. They don't know who our members are. It's not like they can just obliterate the entire northeast area," Viera said.

"Okay okay," Reed said, shaking his head. "You have a point."

"So," Viera said. "Will you help us?"

Reed looked at her.

What she was doing was ambitious and incredibly dangerous. From the looks of it, the Wolves would need all the help they could get. Besides, if the plan actually worked then he would have helped in the destruction of Amestrian soldiers. This would help prove his loyalty to Drachma.

But above all, Viera would be safe.

He looked her in the eye, certain of his answer.

"Of course."

* * *

Ed's head pounded uncomfortably.

He groaned and shut his eyes tight, hoping the feeling would pass.

His entire body was aching. If Mustang wasn't carrying him, Ed wasn't sure that he could even walk.

If the situation was any different, Ed knew that he would probably demand that Mustang put him down. Then maybe kick him for good measure.

But Ed was just too tired and hurt to complain.

And maybe a small part of himself just wanted to be held right now.

They had walked for a few more minutes when Ed felt Mustang slow down.

"We're stopping?" Ed said sluggishly.

"We can't go into the town just yet," Mustang said, placing him on the ground. "I still have blood on my arm."

"So what're you..." Ed started to say.

Mustang didn't answer him, instead beginning to draw an intricate transmutation circle in the dirt. Ed watched with silent wonder. Sometimes he forgot that Mustang was capable of more than just producing flames.

Once the circle was finished, Mustang placed his injured arm over it. The circled activated. Ed watched with amazement as the blood slowly began to peel away from his clothes.

"It's a trick I picked up in Ishval," Mustang said, inspecting his arm, "Do you think you can walk?"

Ed nodded. He was starting to feel better.

"Good," Mustang said, rising to his feet. He brushed away the circle. "You'll need to walk on my right. That way no one will be able to see my arm."

"I got it," Ed said, standing up.

They waited on the edge of the forest, for a few minutes, making sure that no one was around, before entering the town. Luckily, no one seemed to notice them.

"Let's try to get past the common room as soon as possible," Mustang said, as they climbed the inn's steps.

"Do you think Hawkeye and Reed are back?" Ed asked.

"They should be," Mustang said, pushing the door open, "but I'm not sure."

As usual, the common room was full of bustling workers, hunched over tables and chatting loudly.

"You found him," one worker said loudly.

"Sure did," Mustang said, "He was playing around and lost track of time."

The worker nodded. "Want to join us for a drink?"

Mustang flashed a charming smile. "Nah, I'm really worn out. Maybe tomorrow."

The worker nodded contently and turned away.

"Let's go," Mustang said, nudging Ed in the direction of the stairs.

"What about-" Ed started.

"Already done," Mustang said. "Look to the far left, near the bookshelf."

Ed flashed a quick glance. Sure enough Hawkeye was seated there, watching them over the rim of her glass.

Ed started up the stairs.

Once the door to their room closed behind them, Ed let out a sigh of relief and plopped down on his bed.

"We'll wait till Hawkeye gets here," Mustang said, sitting down on his own bed. "We have a lot to discuss."

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

Mustang opened it and Hawkeye slipped in.

Her eyes flashed from Mustang to Ed. "What happened?"

"It's a bit complicated," Mustang said, "has Reed come in yet?"

Hawkeye shook her head.

Mustang let out a deep sigh. He raised his hands to rub his eyes.

"Go downstairs and wait for him. We need to discuss this as a team."

"Sir-" Hawkeye began.

"That's an order," Mustang said.

Hawkeye glanced at him, then brought her gaze to meet Edward's. Ed looked away.

"Yes, sir," she said, turning towards the door once more.

The door shut behind her and Mustang focused his attention on a newspaper laying on the table.

Ed was grateful for the silence. He stared at the wall, contemplating the events of the day.

In the space of a few hours, he had two panic attacks. _Two_.

What was wrong with him?

He felt a few tears prick at his eyes. He missed Al.

There was a knock on the door.

Ed wiped the tears away.

"Who is it?" Mustang called.

"It's us," Hawkeye said through the door.

Mustang opened the door, allowing Reed and Hawkeye to enter. Hawkeye was holding a small bag in her hands.

"What's going on?" Reed asked.

Mustang gestured for them to sit.

"Fullmetal," he said. "Would you care to explain what happened."

Ed stared at the floor. He might as well start at the beginning.

"After the meeting with the vandals, Meg and I decided to hang out. We were walking through town when we came across this woman. Based on what I saw, she seemed to be pretty important and well respected. So when Meg left, I circled back and began to follow her. She was headed somewhere in the forest, but I'm not certain where. Anyway, I guess she noticed that I was following her. But before I could really react, Mustang showed up and started shooting."

Mustang stared at him. "She had you cornered. There weren't a lot of options."

Ed pursed his lips. "How did you even know I was there?" he said, changing the subject.

"Meg told me," Mustang said.

"Meg?" Ed said, raising an eyebrow.

Mustang nodded. "She also knew your real name."

"My name?" Ed said. "How'd she find that out?"

"You tell me," Mustang said.

Ed furrowed his eyebrows. "You think I told her."

"How else would she know?"

"She might've found out on her own."

"How?"

"I don't know," Ed said.

"You sure you didn't give anything away."

"Well," Ed said, thinking back. "I mean she saw my automail but-"

"What?" Mustang said.

"Well I didn't intend to," Ed groaned. "It's complicated okay."

"Complicated?" Mustang gritted. "Is there anything that you do know?"

"You mean besides the fact that you're a self-centered bastard," Ed said.

Mustang opened his mouth to protest, but Ed cut him off.

"Look, the whole point of me getting close to the vandals is so that we can find out if they have any connections to the White Wolves and if so who those people are. I'm pretty sure that woman qualifies as a 'connection.' All I did was make a decision to follow her before she got away. Why do you have a problem with this?"

"I have a problem with the fact that you purposefully entered a dangerous situation. A situation, which by the way, got you cornered at gunpoint," Mustang shouted.

"I had things under control," Ed said.

"You were unarmed and seconds away from blowing your cover. What were you going to do?"

"I would have thought of something," Ed said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" Ed shouted.

There was a long pause.

"You should have asked for help," Mustang said.

Ed turned away.

Mustang let out a sigh. "I don't see why you keep doing this."

Edward snapped his head back. "Don't see why? Tell me Mustang, why are you on this mission? Why didn't you want me to get close to the vandals? You need to let me do things on my own."

"I'm only looking out for you," Mustang said.

"I've been on my own since I was six. _I don't need you_ ," Edward said.

Mustang said nothing. He simply stared at Edward, some sort of expression on his face.

Without another word, Ed turned heel and stormed out of the room.

* * *

They all stood there. Silently, staring at the closed door.

Hawkeye was the first to regain herself. In a fluid motion, she thrusted the bag she was holding into Reed's hands. Casting a short glance at the Colonel, she turned and followed after Ed.

Reed continued to stare at the door.

From the sounds of it, Ed had happened upon Viera by chance. The intel team still had minimal information on her.

Reed almost let out a sigh of relief. Viera was safe.

 _'For now'_

With one problem momentarily solved, Reed turned his attention to the bag in his hands. Inside he found bandages, tweezers, and a small bottle of alcohol. It was a first aid kit.

Reed blinked slowly. He had forgotten that he had shot Mustang.

At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to just walk away. To pretend like his life wasn't falling apart around him.

But he didn't have the luxury.

He was impersonating an Amestrian soldier. In this situation, a soldier would be helping his commanding officer.

Whatever he was feeling could wait.

Reed stepped forward.

"Colonel," he said.

Mustang's eyes were still fixated on the door. His shoulders were slumped and his face wore a crestfallen expression.

Reed tried not to dwell on this too much.

"Your arm," Reed said.

Mustang looked down, as if just remembering his injury.

"Pass me the medical supplies," he said. "I can bandage it myself."

Reed rose an eyebrow. "The injury is on your right arm. Do you intend to clean and bandage it with your _left_ hand?"

Mustang looked at him. Reed could tell that he didn't want to ask for help.

Despite everything, Reed's lips curled into a small smile.

"Is something amusing, Lieutenant?" Mustang asked.

"I just find it ironic that you berate Edward for not asking for help. When you are guilty of doing the same thing," Reed said.

Mustang stared at him for a few seconds.

"Fine," he said, extending his arm.

Reed examined the wound.

The bullet had carved a deep groove into the flesh, but there didn't seem to be any damage to the bones or ligaments.

Reed didn't know whether or not to be relived.

"We'll need to wash it first," he said.

They proceeded to the bathroom where Reed began to clean the wound. Mustang remained silent, his downcast eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror. Reed looked down and sighed.

"Is something on your mind, Lieutenant?"

Reed paused and reached for a towel.

At this very moment there were a thousand thoughts bouncing around his skull.

 _'Focus'_

 _'This is an opportunity. Use it to find out what is going on'_

"I'm just thinking about what Ed said," Reed said slowly. "You are a Colonel, after all. You could have easily handed off this case to someone else, but you didn't."

Mustang nodded.

"Well, you're a smart man. What do you think?" he asked.

Reed shook his head. "This mission is grunt work. It's not going to get you any major prestige or earn you a promotion."

"You're probably right."

"It doesn't make sense at all. You have nothing to gain from this." Reed was silent for a moment. "Unless..." He looked Mustang in the eye. "This is about Edward, isn't it?"

Mustang looked away. "Figured out that much haven't you."

Reed creased his brow. "I'm just trying to make sense of what's going on." Reed fell silent. He really needed this information. Perhaps a change in tactics. "But if you don't want to talk about it that's fine. Forget I said anything."

Mustang sighed. "No. You're on this mission as well. You have a right to know what happened."

"So what did happen?" Reed asked.

Mustang ran his free hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

And then he began to speak.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _To everyone who thought that Reed would've looked at the Parktown Incident and decided to be a better person... I'm sorry. But I PROMISE that I have a plan and know what I am doing. Unfortunately, that's all I can say for now. As much as I can't wait to further Reed's character arc, Mustang and Ed's subplot is going to take the spotlight for the next chapter (I think that's pretty obvious)._

 _I have no idea when Chapter 10 will be posted. Of course, I_ want _to post it around the end of December. But I've found that what I want to do and what I end up doing are never consistent. As usual I'll be posting updates on my profile._

 _Fun Fact:_

 _I tried to be consistent with this, but members of the White Wolves or those affiliated with them (Reed, Viera, Meg) frequently use the simplified 'Wolves" to refer to the group. While outsiders (Mustang, Ed), refer to them as the "White Wolves." This small detail is useful to differentiate between who is or is not a member of the resistance group. I also used this to foreshadow Meg's Father's membership with the group._


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note:_

 _What's this? I'm actually posting within an appropriate time window? I didn't submit my readers to endless months of waiting? What is this sorcery?_

 _Though I would love to claim that I have amazingly improved my time management skills, I have actually been_ _writing this chapter since around the same time I posted Chapter 2. The reasons for this is that I had initially intended to explain Ed's injuries as early as possible. However as I began revising the story more and more, this chapter got pushed back later and later, so by the time I had posted Chapter 9, half of this chapter was already written. What I'm most proud of, however, is that it only took a little over a week to edit the chapter. I consider this impressive considering I had to do heavy editing on almost every scene. In all, I hope this means that_ _I'll be able to churn out updates more frequently._

 _The only drawback to this is since I've been writing his chapter for over a year, it's gotten harder to gauge the quality of my work since I've gotten so used to it. Luckily, this is a problem specific to only this chapter._

 _Prepare for feels. Lots of feels. I promised a Parental!RoyEd subplot and I am going to follow through._

 _Reviews are always appreciated_

 _I own nothing._

* * *

It was just after dawn when Colonel Mustang entered his office. For once the reason for his early start wasn't because he had procrastinated the night before, but rather the opposite. Many higher ups were being assigned to the White Wolves case and as a result their other paperwork was piling up. Mustang had taken the initiative and volunteered to take on the extra work.

At first his subordinates had been crushed, expecting the Colonel to slack off. However Mustang knew the strategic importance of keeping up with this extra work. He had actually been consistently meeting deadlines well ahead of schedule. In the end, the only one who wasn't amused was Hawkeye, but there wasn't anything he could do about that.

So when the phone rang, Mustang had been there to answer it.

He let it ring for a few seconds, signing one last paper before picking up the receiver. Frankly, he doubted that it was anything really important. For who would be calling him this early in the morning?

"This is Colonel Roy Mustang," he said.

"Colonel," said a frantic voice. "You need to come to the hospital. Immediately."

"Alphonse?" Mustang said, raising an eyebrow. "Has something happened?"

"It's brother. He's hurt really bad. They're taking him in for surgery. Please hurry."

"Which hospital are you at?" Mustang asked, rising to his feet.

"The one by the train station, near Birchwood Drive," Alphonse said.

"I'll be there in 10 minutes."

Mustang felt that he could not drive fast enough.

The mission he had sent Ed on wasn't particularly dangerous. There were rumors about some greatly gifted alchemist in a town about 30 miles south from Heinsworth. Sure the town was in the northeast area, but it was a decent distance from the edge of the White Wolves' area of operation. Ed should've been fine.

The kid had only been in the military for under a year. Sure he was a bit of a hothead, but he was also an excellent fighter and extremely resourceful. He wasn't by any means an easy target.

What could've possibly happened?

On another note, if Ed had been injured during the mission, wouldn't he have been treated at the closest hospital? So then why was Ed brought to the one in East City? Was it possible that he wasn't injured during the mission?

Upon entering the hospital, Mustang was directed toward the surgical wing's waiting room.

He spotted Alphonse instantly, a suit of armor tends to stick out in a crowd.

"Colonel," Alphonse said as he approached. "I'm glad you're here."

"What happened?" Mustang asked. He formed his hands into fists in a vain attempt to keep them from shaking.

Before Al could answer, a mousy haired nurse cleared her throat. Mustang hadn't even noticed her sitting next to Al.

"Are you Edward Elric's commanding officer?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm Colonel Roy Mustang," he answered.

"I need you to fill out these papers," the nurse said, placing a clipboard in his hands.

Mustang looked suspiciously at them.

"They just want to know about Brother's medical history," Al said. "I already told them what I know, but they need his commanding officer sign some forms."

"Very well," Mustang said. After all, he was technically Edward's guardian. He took a seat, silently cueing the nurse to leave. "I'll return these papers once they've been completed."

"That would be acceptable," she said, turning down the hall.

With the nurse gone, Mustang started filling out the forms.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

Al began to speak rapidly. "I don't really know. I thought Brother was fine, but then he collapsed. I brought him here, but then he started going into shock and-"

"Hey," Mustang said softly. "Let's start from the beginning. You were in that town I sent you to, right?"

"Yes. We searched all over, but we couldn't find that alchemist. None of the locals knew anything either. After a week, we figured it was a lost cause and decided we should just head back. But we were late getting to the train station and missed our train, so we had to take the midnight train to East City," Al said.

"Then what happened?"

"In the rush to get to the station, Brother had left his coat at the inn. He ran back to get it while I bought some food. He took so long to come back, I should have noticed something was wrong," Al said.

"So Ed arrived at the station?" Mustang said.

"Yes and we boarded the train. By then it was past midnight so when Brother slept the entire ride, I didn't think anything of it. We arrived in East City and then Brother collapsed getting off the train," Alphonse seemed to be calming down now, he simply took a few moments before continuing. "That's when I noticed that he was hurt. I took him to the hospital. He was still conscious and kept telling me that it was only a few scrapes and bruises. He kept insisting that he could just sleep it off."

Al paused once more. Mustang waited patiently for him to continue, using his many years of military training to force himself to stay calm.

"And then he started going into shock. Everything happened so fast after that. I heard one of the doctors say something about internal bleeding and how they had to take him into surgery immediately. One of the nurses asked about family. I told them that I was his younger brother. They asked about parents and I said we had none. I told them that he was a State Alchemist. They said to call his commanding officer, so I called you."

"Has the doctor been by yet?" Mustang asked.

"No. They said they'll come by once Brother's out of surgery."

"Okay, then," Mustang said signing the last form. He stood up and gave them to a passing orderly. He forced himself to sit back down, resisting the urge to pace.

Ed had only been in surgery for a little while. He could be fine.

Or he could be bleeding out on a surgical table.

Mustang slowly opened and closed his hands, struggling and failing to properly compose himself.

Selfishly, he wanted to know exactly what happened to Ed.

If some low life had been responsible for this, he would burn them without remorse. He would show them what happened to people who crossed him. And if it were a fellow soldier in the chair next to him, he would have pressed them for more information, and then gone off on his path for vengeance.

But Alphonse was only 12 years old, and his only family member had been seriously injured. He didn't need promises of revenge. He needed proof that he wasn't going to be alone.

"Do you think brother is going to be alright?" Al asked.

Mustang spoke truthfully. "I'm not going to promise that he is going to be okay, because I honestly don't know. However, I do know that your brother is the most stubborn and headstrong person I know. He is not the type to give up."

Alphonse stared at the floor before them, seemingly processing the Colonel's words.

"I'm scared," Al admitted.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Mustang said.

Truth was, he was scared too.

They sat in silence for quite some time. Mustang tried not to look at the clock. He didn't want to know how much time had passed. Didn't want to think about how serious Edward's injuries must be.

Didn't want to think about what he would do if Ed died.

Mustang had no use for those thoughts. So he tried his best to not think at all.

Hours passed.

Finally, a doctor walked into the room.

"Alphonse Elric," he called.

They both looked up.

"That's me," Al said.

The doctor was a tall middle aged man with piercing brown eyes.

"My name is Doctor Bard," he said. "I was the surgeon in charge of your brother's surgery." His gaze wavered over to Mustang, taking in his military uniform. "I'm assuming you're Edward Elric's commanding officer."

"Yes, I am Colonel Roy Mustang. What is the status of my subordinate?"

Doctor Bard turned back to face Alphonse.

"Your brother's surgery was successful. We managed to stop the internal bleeding and determined that it was caused by a liver laceration. He has a series of other injuries, but none of them are life threatening. With proper rest and care I expect him to make a full recovery. Right now, he is stable and being moved to recovery."

Alphonse nodded.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

"Sure, right this way."

They followed the doctors through the halls. The doctor stopped at the end of the hallway.

"Your brother is down the hall in room 189. He should be waking up shortly," Dr. Bard said.

Al nodded and began walking down the corridor.

Mustang moved to follow him.

"Colonel, may I speak to you for a moment?" Dr. Bard said.

"Very well," Mustang said. He turned to Al. "Go ahead. I'll come by when we're done."

He followed Dr. Bard until they had reached a secluded hallway.

"What's this about?" Mustang asked.

Dr. Bard let out a sigh. "If you didn't already guess I was sugar coating things back there," he said. "It's true that Edward Elric had internal bleeding caused by a liver laceration. However in addition to that he also has 6 bruised ribs, 2 of which are broken, a sprained wrist, and there are large areas of bruising on his chest and abdomen. He was beaten."

Mustang fell silent. The doctor's words were resonating around his skull.

After a few moments he cleared his throat, attempting to gain some semblance of composure.

"Thank you for informing me," Mustang said, after a few moments. "Rest assured that I will find the people responsible for this."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Dr. Bard said. He fell silent, as if he was carefully choosing his next words. "Edward's laceration wasn't that severe. In fact, it was relatively minor. Had it been treated immediately, he might've not even needed surgery." He paused again. "But he wasn't treated immediately. And when we opened him up, we found nearly a liter of blood in his body cavity. He had been bleeding out for hours."

"What?" Mustang breathed.

Dr. Bard nodded. "Now I'm not a psychologist but I do have considerable experience with trauma patients. Understandably, I'm incredibly worried about Edward's mental wellbeing. Injuries like this don't just heal overnight and he's in for a long road of recovery. If he's prone to this type of reckless behaviour, he might not take the time to properly recover. This, understandably, will have consequences both physically and mentally," Dr. Bard said. "Now I think someone mentioned before that these boys have no parents."

"Yes, their father left when they were young and their mother died soon after."

"Do they have any other parental figures in their lives?"

"Well, there's the Rockbells, they're old family friends, but I don't think they've visited them since they've joined the military," Mustang said. "I don't know of anyone else."

"Colonel, I cannot stress just how much Edward needs to be properly supported through this time, especially since he seems to have a habit of hiding his injuries. Physically, he should limit physical exertion for about 8 to 12 weeks. He also needs to watch for sudden abdominal pain, shortness of breath, and dizziness with a fast pulse. These may be signs that he has injured himself again. But above all, he needs emotional support. Edward is still a child and I can tell he's had a pretty rough time. He's going to have some very complex emotions to deal with."

Mustang took a breath. "I understand."

For a moment, a knowing looked seemed to cross Dr. Bard's face, but then it was gone.

"Then that would be all," Dr. Bard said. And without another word, he turned to leave.

Mustang stood there in that hallway for a few moments longer, processing the doctor's words.

Since joining the military, there was a newfound confidence to Ed. His back was straighter, his chin higher, and the haunted look in his eyes seemed to diminish. He had gotten a bit more cocky, a bit more proud; reveling in his power and strength.

And now he had been seriously injured.

Ed was so used to being strong. Mustang seriously doubted that he would actually take the time to properly recover. He had seen it often enough: injured soldiers pushing themselves too far and ending up hurting themselves even more, delaying their recovery time in the process.

If this went on, Ed would end up doing more harm then good.

Mustang took a deep breath. He'll think about it later.

He walked back through the corridors to Ed's room. Once outside the room, he found himself pausing. Both dreading and desperate to see his subordinates condition.

Mustang opened the door.

Edward was laying in the hospital bed. There were bandages on his left hand and Mustang could see a few others peeking out from under his hospital gown. His hair was out of his usual braid, golden strands sprawled out against the stark white pillow.

He looked so much like a child.

"Colonel," Al said. He was sitting down in a nearby chair. "What did the doctor want to talk about?"

"Just some paperwork," Mustang lied. He sat down on the other side of the bed.

Al nodded. He stroked some hair from Ed's face.

"I wish I could tell..." Al started. "I wish I could feel him."

If possible Mustang's heart sunk even lower.

Before he knew it, he reached forward, letting his hand lie on Ed's cheek.

"His skin is warm," Mustang described. "It's soft and a little damp, as if it has been washed."

He fell silent, unsure if Al wanted him to continue, but after a moment Al gave him a urging nod. Mustang moved his fingers to feel Ed's pulse.

"His pulse is strong and steady. He looked Alphonse in the eye and withdrew his hand. "Your brother is alive. He is going to be alright."

Alphonse nodded.

"Thank you," he said.

Mustang smiled. He could feel the relief washing over him. For a few moments he simply watched Ed's chest rise and fall, continued proof that he was alive. That he was going to be okay.

Mustang took a breath. "Do you have any plans here in East City?"

He didn't actually want to talk, but at the very least he wanted to provide Al with some sort of distraction from the current situation.

"Not really," Al said. "Brother was just looking forward to holing up in the library."

"May I suggest that you check out the museum. They have a new exhibit about Pierre Curie."

"Wasn't he a physicist?"

Mustang nodded. "Most of the exhibit is pretty mundane, but they recently discovered some of his old scientific journals."

"Really?"

"As I recall they found them in an old storage room of an abandoned warehouse. But anyway, you might want to ask the museum employees if you can further examine them."

"I'll make sure to. Brother is surely going to need something to do while..." Al trailed off. He reached forward to grasp Ed's hand. "Brother?"

Mustang fell silent as well, his eyes focused on the young boy's face. At first it seemed like nothing had changed, but then Mustang noticed that Ed's eye's were moving behind his eyelids. Slowly, they flickered open.

"Brother," Al said, the relief clear in his voice.

Ed let out a low groan.

"Alphonse," he said breathlessly. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," Al said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," Ed said. He looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. His eyes rested on Mustang and he scowled deeply.

"What are you doing here?" Ed asked.

"Could ask you the same thing," Mustang said.

"The doctors wanted him here," Al answered.

"I don't know why you both look so worried," Ed insisted. "I'm fine."

"You were bleeding internally," Al said.

"Just bruises," Ed said dismissively.

"They said it was caused by a liver laceration," Mustang said. "You could have died."

Ed shrugged. "I just didn't think it was a big deal."

Mustang bit back a retort.

As much as he wanted to reprimand Ed for being so utterly careless, now was not the time to argue.

Ed had just woken up from surgery. What these brothers needed now more than anything was some time alone to process and reconnect.

Mustang forced himself to stand.

There'll be time to sort this out later.

"I'll inform the doctors that you've woken up," Mustang said.

He might have been imagining it, but as he walked to the door. He could have sworn that Ed's eyes were fixated on him, watching him as he exited the room.

* * *

About an hour later, Mustang sat outside Ed's room, his head resting back against the wall.

A nurse had come by a few minutes prior and finding Ed asleep, he made them both promise that they wouldn't enter the room for at least another hour, so that Ed could get some decent rest.

Alphonse was sitting next to him. He had procured a book from somewhere and seemed to be reading intently. However Mustang couldn't help but notice that he was simply staring at the same spot on the page.

Suddenly, Mustang stood up, a new panic flooding through him.

"Colonel?" Al asked.

"I forgot to tell Hawkeye where I was," Mustang said.

For the first time that morning the tension in the room seemed to diminish. Instead replaced by budding humor.

In truth, Al's eyes were now glittering with amusement. "You should probably call her."

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. "She is going to kill me."

He glanced at the clock.

It was well past lunch.

Great.

Just great.

"I'm going to find a phone," he said, turning down the hall.

"Good luck, Colonel," Alphonse called.

Mustang found a pay phone a few corridors over. He quickly dialled the number for the office.

The phone rang once before someone picked it up.

"This is Lieutenant Jean Havoc. May I ask who is speaking?"

Mustang gritted his teeth. "Hey Havoc, it's me. Could you put Hawkeye on the line?"

"Colonel?" Havoc said, "Where are-" He never finished his sentence.

"Sir," Hawkeye said, having grabbed the phone. "if you are going to volunteer to do extra paperwork, you might want to show up and actually do it."

"Sorry about that," Mustang said, cringing slightly.

"Where are you?" Hawkeye asked.

"I'm at the hospital. Ed's been injured."

"What?"

"I don't have all the details, but we're pretty sure he was beaten. Al said that they missed the evening train, so they had to take the midnight one to East City. Ed had left his coat at the inn and ran back to get it. I'm pretty sure he was beaten somewhere along the way. Somehow, he managed to get back to the train station. He hid his injuries the entire way here, until he collapsed getting off the train. Al then noticed his injuries and brought him to the hospital. He had significant internal bleeding and had to be brought in immediately for surgery. He just got out about an hour ago. I'm sorry. I completely forgot to call you," Mustang said.

There was no response from the other end of the line.

"Lieutenant?" Mustang asked. "Hawkeye... You there?"

"Did you eat lunch?" Hawkeye asked.

Mustang blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Lunch, did you eat it?" she asked once more.

"Well..."

"That's what I thought," she said. All trace of aggression gone. "I'll be by soon and bring you a sandwich."

"Thank you."

"As well as your paperwork. If you are going to stay at the hospital all day you might as well do something useful."

* * *

A little while later, Mustang looked up to see Hawkeye walking down the hallway. There was a takeout bag in her hand.

Suddenly aware of his growing hunger, he rose to his feet.

"Lieutenant," he said. "Punctual as always." He reached for the food.

Hawkeye, seemingly unamused, plopped a pile of papers into his outstretched hand.

"Colonel," she said. "The files for Major Carlton are due by 800 hours tomorrow. There are also a total of twenty-five forms detailing six various topics that need your approval by 900 hours tomorrow. The final report of the Weller case is also due by 900 hours tomorrow. Then also tomorrow at 1100 hours you have a meeting with the General, after that at 1300 hours you are to oversee the installation of the new delivery system lines, and then finally the report of the installation is due at 1800 hours."

Mustang couldn't help but smile. Despite the absurd amount of work he now had to accomplish, it seemed that his schedule was completely clear for the day. This was incredibly strange. It was almost as if someone had intentionally cleared it.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mustang said sincerely. "Your dedication is much appreciated. I'll be sure to finish all the paperwork by tomorrow."

Satisfied, Hawkeye handed him his food. "I'll find you later," she said, flashing her eyes in Al's direction.

Understanding her intent, Mustang excused himself and began to walk down the hall.

Behind him he could hear Hawkeye and Al beginning to talk in low tones.

Over the past several hours, he had done his best to console Alphonse. However Al was closer to Hawkeye than to him, so there was a likely chance that he'll respond well to her support.

Though Mustang couldn't help but notice that Hawkeye was also using this as an opportunity to force him to take a break.

Smiling softly to himself, Mustang began to inspect the contents of the takeout bag.

* * *

Half an hour later, Mustang was sitting outside on a bench. He had tilted his head back and was staring up at the sky, watching the clouds drift overhead.

There was the sound of footsteps.

"How is Alphonse?" Mustang asked.

Hawkeye sat down next to him. "He's holding up the best he can, given the circumstances. How are you?"

Had it been any other officer sitting next to him. Mustang would've flashed a charming smile, said "I'm okay," and probably made a snarky comment about hospitals. But Hawkeye knew him better than that, so he didn't bother.

Instead he stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to put his emotions into words.

"He almost died," Mustang said finally.

"And you feel responsible," Hawkeye said.

Mustang nodded. "I knew that that area was dangerous, but I sent him anyway."

"You could have never predicted this."

"Hawkeye, someone beat him. They broke his ribs, sprained his wrist-" Mustang took a shaky breath. "That kid has been through enough and now this."

"You shouldn't blame yourself," she said.

"But I-"

"One of your subordinates was hospitalised. You have every right to feel awful about it, we all do. Feel what you need to feel. This is a lot of process. But do remember that in the long run, blaming yourself isn't going to help Edward. What matters is that we do our best to help him recover."

Mustang took a moment to study Hawkeye's expression. Though she seemed composed, her shoulders were tense and her eyes had a dark tint to them.

This was affecting her too.

"Have you spoken to Edward yet? About how he got injured?" Hawkeye asked.

"Only briefly. Right now, he needs to rest," he said.

"You'll have to ask him soon. If you want to find out who did this," she said.

Mustang sighed. "I'm not one to speculate, but I have a pretty good idea who it was."

"The White Wolves," Hawkeye said.

"Who else would beat a child to this extent," Mustang said.

Hawkeye nodded. "I'm having Falman and Feury look for leads: call the inn, check for chatter, cross reference past incidents see of anything correlates. But we're looking for a needle in a haystack, we need Ed's testimony," she said. "Do you think he'll be honest with you?"

"He got injured during a mission. He'll have to," Mustang said.

"I know, but Ed is extremely proud and this has been the most he has been hurt since..."

Hawkeye didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to. They both understood. This has been the most Ed has gotten hurt since he and his brother preformed human transmutation.

After Ed joined the military he had been filled with a new hope and strength. They had no way to know how he would react after being knocked off his feet.

"Do you want me there when you ask him?" she asked.

"No, I think it'll be better if it's just me," Mustang said. "But can you keep Al occupied? I think it's better if he didn't know the details."

"Of course."

* * *

That night, Hawkeye swung by the hospital once more. After chatting with the brothers for a few minutes, she insisted on taking Al out for a walk, claiming that it would help with the stress. Mustang knew she planned to take him through the park, where they would without a doubt run into a few cats.

Mustang stood outside Ed's room, trying his best to compose himself.

But Ed must've caught on.

"I know you're there!" Ed yelled, startling everyone in the hall.

Mustang rolled his eyes. Trying his best to ignore the nurses's curious glances, he stepped into the room.

Ed was sitting in the bed, propped up by a series of pillows. There was a familiar fire raging in his eyes.

"You're here for my report," Ed said.

"Yes," Mustang said, sitting down.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Your intel sucks. There was no alchemist in that town. Al and I looked for a week, but we couldn't find anyone that fit is description and none of the locals would admit to knowing him. So we decided it was a dead end and came back to East City. End of story."

"So then how did you get injured?" Mustang asked.

"I don't have to tell you that," Ed said.

"You were injured during a mission. That makes it the military's business. And as your commanding officer, that makes it my business. Now tell me what happened," Mustang said.

Ed glared a him. "How much did Al tell you?"

"That you had left your coat at the inn, so you went back to get it. You arrived at the station, seemingly unharmed. Until you collapsed getting off the train in East City," Mustang said.

"I didn't collapse, I tripped," Ed corrected.

"Well, then you must've tripped over your own stupidity," Mustang said.

Ed scowled.

Mustang looked him in the eye.

"What happened Edward?" he asked.

Ed looked away. "Al is right for the most part. I ran back into town to fetch my coat. I had gotten it and was walking back to the station," He fell silent. "Then a group of people ambushed me."

"Did you get a good look at their faces?" Mustang asked.

"No, it was too dark. I remember their voices, but it's not like that's going to identify them," Ed formed his hand into a fist. "I tried to fight them off, but there was a lot of them and they were stronger than me. They just beat me to a pulp and left me on the road. I think I got knocked out, because I remember waking up. I didn't want to make a fuss, so I figured that I could just sleep it off on the train," Ed said.

"Did you notice anything else about them? Did they say anything to you?" Mustang asked.

"Well it was really dark, so I couldn't make out what they were wearing. However, they kept saying that I was a dirty dog of the military and that I should be put down," Ed said.

Mustang gritted his teeth. What kind of sick person beats a kid, tells him to die, and leaves him unconscious on a road.

"Oh," Ed said. "And one of them said something really weird. He said that only true wolves were meant to survive, not domesticated dogs."

Mustang sucked in a breath. They had called themselves "Wolves. " This only confirmed his suspicions.

Ed narrowed his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Fullmetal, have you heard of the White Wolves?" Mustang asked.

"Yeah. Why? Do you think they did this?" Ed asked.

"Sounds like it," Mustang said.

Ed scoffed. "They're nobodies, just a group of thugs."

"Yeah, a group of thugs who managed to beat you up," Mustang said.

"Hey, it was dark and they ambushed me," Ed said defensively.

"Fullmetal, if you think reasonably for just one moment-"

"I've been reasonable," Ed said.

"Oh really," Mustang said. His anger finally boiling over. "Then why didn't you seek medical attention?"

"I wasn't bleeding. Neither of my limbs were broken. I figured I was fine," Ed said.

"So you were beat up, knocked unconscious, and figured that you could just walk it off," Mustang said.

"Hey, I went through automail surgery. Compared to that this pain is nothing."

"That's no excuse. At the very least, you should have told Al you were hurt."

Ed looked down, murmuring something under his breath.

"What was that?" Mustang asked.

"I have no right to complain," Ed said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Mustang asked.

Ed gave him a glare.

Mustang was struck with understanding.

"This is about Al" he said.

Ed turned away and said nothing.

Mustang gritted his teeth. "If you feel responsible for Al's situation. Fine. If you want to blame yourself for it. Fine. You are entitled to feel however you want. However that doesn't mean that you can do whatever you wish."

"Yes, it does," Ed said. "You have no idea what he goes through every single day. This pain is nothing compared to that."

"His feelings don't make your pain invalid."

Ed scoffed. "You don't understand what you're talking about."

"Well maybe I don't," Mustang said. "But what I do understand is that Al spent the morning sitting in a waiting room, thinking that his last family member could be dying, just because you were to stubborn to tell him you were injured."

"Shut up!" Ed shouted.

"Make me!" Mustang said. "When are you going to learn, Ed? State Alchemist or not, prodigy or not, you cannot do whatever you wish. Now I don't give a damn what your intentions were, what you did was reckless and wrong."

"Get out!"

"Gladly," Mustang said, turning toward the door and not bothering to look back.

Which was a shame, because if he had he would have seen a crestfallen look cross Ed's face. As the young alchemist suddenly found himself recalling the painful memory of another turned back.

To Ed, this was just another bitter reminder that he was alone in this world.

But Mustang didn't look back.

Instead he marched through the hospital, trying to collect his thoughts.

In the back of his mind, Mustang always knew that the Elrics had never completely healed from their failed human transmutation. Of course he hadn't expected them to, traumatic experiences like that don't just go away.

But knowing a fact and experiencing it were two completely different things.

Mustang had never seen Ed like this: his trauma out in the open like a festering wound: painful and grotesque.

Ed couldn't keep doing this. Sooner or later his actions were going to catch up to him and when that happened he was going to crash. Hard.

And Mustang had no idea how to stop it.

Or even if Ed wanted to stop.

That thought terrified him more than anything.

* * *

A week passed and Colonel Mustang was called to General Grumman's office.

"General," Mustang said, saluting upon entrance.

"At ease," the General said, looking up at the officer before him. "Tell me, how is the young Elric faring?"

"Sir?" Mustang said. Why would the General call him all the way to his office for this?

"Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. How is he doing?" Grumman asked.

"Alright I guess," Mustang said, unsure about the topic at hand. "He is scheduled to be discharged tomorrow."

"A total of seven days in the hospital," the General said.

"Did you need me for something, sir?" Mustang asked.

Instead the General looked at some papers on his desk.

"This information is top secret, but I think it might interest you. You see, two days ago, the White Wolves resistance group destroyed the Ukon train station."

"What?"

"Naturally, the military has decided to take action. They plan to send a small intelligence team to Ukon to find out more information on the group," the General said. "Understandably, the Fullmetal Alchemist has already been assigned to the team. They seem to think his previous run in with the White Wolves would prove to be an advantage in identifying some of the members."

"How soon?" Mustang asked.

Ed was in absolutely no shape to go on another mission, especially one as dangerous as this.

"From the looks of it as soon as Edward can walk in a straight line, Central will be ready to send him off."

"Why are you telling me about this?" Mustang asked. It was extremely risky for Grumman to leak this information to him.

"Central has tasked me with assembling the rest of the team. I can put anyone on it, as long as they are under my command. I thought because Edward Elric was your subordinate you might have some interest in the matter." He looked Mustang in the eye. "I find the boy quite interesting. Just 13 years old and a State Alchemist. I was of course concerned with his recent hospitalization, but you can't deny it, that boy's got talent."

Mustang understood. Their orders came from Central. They had to obey them. Though General Grumman had no interest in putting an injured child in the field. So he was doing the best he could given the circumstances. He was giving Mustang a chance to protect his subordinate.

"Then, may I request to be a part of the Ukon intelligence team," Mustang said.

It was the only way he could really protect Ed.

"I don't know, but the military might suddenly decide to send two State Alchemist, instead of one, this being such a dangerous mission and all. Anything else the military should consider?"

"Put Lieutenants Hawkeye and Reed on the team."

"Lieutenant Logan Reed from the Parktown Incident?" Grumman asked, raising his eyebrow. He had been expecting Mustang to request Hawkeye, but Reed?

"If you remember, I was the one to debrief him after the incident. I was going to find some way to examine his skills, but this mission seems to be the perfect opportunity.

"Very well," Grumman said. "You're dismissed."

Mustang turned to leave, but then he hesitated. "And if it's not too much, I have one more request."

"A man has every right to state his mind," Grumman said.

"Wait at least one week after Ed is discharged from the hospital before sending off the intelligence team," Mustang said.

"I'll pull a few strings."

* * *

That night Colonel Mustang made his way to the hospital, but he had no intention of visiting Edward.

"You wanted to see me, Colonel," Dr. Bard said.

"I need you to extend Edward Elric's hospital stay as long as possible." Mustang said.

The doctor's eyebrow furrowed. "May I ask why?"

"Edward is a State Alchemist. Meaning that he is a dog of the military. The military can use him for whatever purpose they wish, regardless of his personal wellbeing," Mustang paused. "But he is still only 13 years old."

"I don't follow," the doctor said.

"You don't need to. You only need to extend his hospital stay as long as possible and speak of this to no one," Mustang said.

Dr. Bard's eyes widened, realization passing over his face. "You are trying to protect him," he said.

Mustang said nothing.

Dr. Bard consulted the papers before him. He looked through them for a while before speaking.

"Typically patients with liver lacerations are kept under observation for roughly two to seven days. However Edward has several other injuries, some of which are in danger of being infected. To be safe, we can extend his hospital stay to make sure everything is alright. Maybe two weeks instead of one," Dr. Bard said.

"Thank you," Mustang said.

Dr. Bard walked away mumbling. "I don't get you. Wouldn't the best way to protect the boy be to keep him out of the military to begin with."

If only it were that simple.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Well, I would like to post Chapter 11 in about a month, but I have no idea if I'm actually going to make that deadline. As always check my profile for more consistent updates._

 _Fun Fact:_

 _I actually did considerable research on liver lacerations in order to write this chapter. Most of the things the doctor says is factual._ _From a medical standpoint, Ed should not have been sent on a mission so soon._


End file.
